Windwalker: First Test
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Raised as a soldier, Kyra discovers she is heir the Force & must seek the only person who can train her--Qui Gon Jinn, her father, who never knew she existed! Also includes young Obi-Wan. AU pre-Phantom Menace.
1. Chapter 1

**Hawk Haven, Salishar, nine years before **_Phantom Menace_**:**

The sun blazed in a sky of perfect azure tinted with violet, a sky so clear it was almost crystalline. It fell upon the tall spires and domes of sparkling metal rainbowed with a thousand different colors, that comprised the large complex housing the finest company of warriors in seven star systems. They were known as the Starhawks, led by the fearless Commander Ilaren, a woman whose reputation was as deadly and sharp as her vibroblade. The Republic kept the peace in the galaxy, aided by the Starhawks, whose elite battle skills deterred all but the most determined, or suicidal, lawbreakers. The company was held in high esteem, almost the equivalent of the Jedi Knights, for the Starhawks seemed to have uncanny fighting skills, skills that rivaled those trained in the Force.

However, the skills of a Starhawk were not mystical in nature, but rather the result of long, grueling practice sessions every day, sessions that tested the stamina, speed, and reflexes of the warrior to the breaking point. An old saying among the veterans was "Whatever doesn't break you only makes you stronger." Proof of that saying was in the practice field now, a solitary figure gliding effortlessly through the pattern of a fourth-level sword-dance, dressed in the gold and blue tunic of a Starhawk officer.

Her emerald vibroblade hummed as she brought it about in a backhanded slash, making the move seem as natural as breathing. She continued, bringing the blade up and around in a series of maneuvers that had long since become routine. Long honey-gold hair was braided and coiled atop her head, well out of the way of her sword, which could cut through durasteel like butter. A vibroblade was similar to a Jedi lightsaber, save for the fact that it was curved slightly, like a scimitar, and required a longer time to recharge. It was also less costly to make than a lightsaber, but it was just as deadly. Every new recruit learned to handle a vibroblade like it was a feather, albeit a lethal one, by the time basic training was finished. By the time one made officer level the vibroblade became part of them, just like an arm or an eye, controlled by unconscious reflexes that seemed to the observer to be magically quick and accurate.

Eyes that matched the blue of the sky above narrowed in concentration as she reversed the blade, spun it, and caught it in midair. It was a clever trick and also a dangerous one, had she miscalculated by a millimeter the sword would have taken her hand off. But the hilt smacked firmly into her hand as it always had. Lowering the sword till it was parallel to the ground, the girl bowed and switched it off, returning it to the clip on her belt. Only then did she reach up to undo the braid and let the heavy length down to hang past her hips. A faint smile creased her face, which was unusually serious for her fifteen years. Her hair was her one vanity, a thing which her Commander mother often said would get her killed. But Kyranon didn't care. She loved the silky feel of her hair when the wind blew and any enemy that got close enough to snag her hair was close enough to be killed. It had been the first time she had ever won an argument with her mother, Starhawk Commander Ilaren. But not, she thought firmly, the last time.

The young warrior turned to stare out across the misty green hills, hills that cradled and surrounded Hawk Haven from the rest of Salishar, isolating it from the hustling trade cities of Southport and Newsea. She had never minded the isolation before, it was quiet and peaceful here, a good place to practice forms and learn the Way of the Sword undisturbed by outsiders asking distracting questions. She had spent all of her life among the misty hills, content to study the arts of war as only the child of a swordmaster could be. Yet today the sight of the misty green expanse left her feeling hollow, as if the mist had reached in and sucked out her breath, squeezing tighter and tighter until she was empty.

Irritated, Kyranon breathed out sharply. She was being foolish, allowing her mystic side to run unchecked, as her mother would have said, giving into unfounded dread. Except the tightness in her chest was brought on not by phantoms of her imagination but by the very real knowledge in her head. The knowledge that she, untrained, could wield the Force, a talent that no Starhawk had ever possessed, a talent that had long been the province of the Jedi Knights. It was a talent that had been inherited from her father's side of the family.

A father that she had never known of until recently, for custom on Salishar dictated that a daughter belonged to her mother, to be raised as she saw fit, with or without consent of the man she had chosen to be her mate. Kyranon had never questioned the custom until two years before, when strange flashes of the Sight began to awaken in her, disturbing her dreams with their clarity. She had seen herself in a stone building, sparring with a tall man holding a green lightsaber, wearing the clothes of a Jedi Master. Kyra was not sure how she knew this, having never seen a Jedi before, but she did. Even more disturbing was the fact that she now seemed to be capable of summoning a breeze to her, wherever she happened to be, with just a thought. She could also guess what people would do before they spoke or lifted a sword.

Raised in the harsh school of a soldier, Kyra found herself woefully unprepared for these mystic qualities. Dreams and visions had no place in the life of a Starhawk officer and at first she had tried to disregard them. But the dreams had been growing stronger as had the urge to go elsewhere, to the place she had seen so many times in her visions: Coruscant, where the Temple of the Jedi was. At last she had gone to her mother, who had told her that the dreams were a sign of the Force. Kyra had been stunned.

"But how? I'm a Starhawk, not a Jedi!"

Ilaren sighed, clearly displeased by her daughter's newfound talents. "This is not an easy thing for me to explain, but you seem to have inherited your father's gifts as well as my own."

"My father?" Kyra repeated, for the Commander had never mentioned him before, and Kyra had long ago stopped asking.

"He is a Jedi, one of their Masters, or so I've heard. His name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I haven't seen him since before you were born," Ilaren admitted, and her face seemed to soften for an instant, her green eyes gazing at a picture only she could see. Then she became stern again and Kyra wondered if she'd imagined it. "He is strong in the Force, and an outstanding swordsman, one of the reasons why I married him. I never thought you would inherit his powers, you're far past the age when the Force begins to show itself . . ." she frowned in disapproval. Kyra winced under her mother's sharp stare, feeling herself flush in shame.

"What should I do? About these powers?"

"Do? Nothing. Unused, they should fade, as a vibroblade does when not in use." Ilaren replied. "A Starhawk does not need the Force to fight."

"Yes, Commander," Kyra answered, saluting with one fist on her heart. Then she had left, resolving to abandon these unlooked for powers.

But as the days went on her determination waned, for through the Force she discovered things about her world that no one at Hawk Haven knew. In the woods and fields she found plants which the Force told her could help heal injured or sick warriors at twice the normal speed, even better than a medic-bot. She found she could understand the feelings and minds of the birds and animals. Then too, the Force showed her pictures of other worlds, other creatures, things for which she had no name but which fascinated her. Suddenly an insatiable desire to know and learn awoke in her.

It was a desire that had long since been channeled into swordplay and fighting techniques, things which a Starhawk soldier should know, and she especially as the Commander's heir, who would one day lead the company when her mother was gone. Her education in alien cultures and languages had been thorough, if one-sided. She could speak seven languages fluently, could map terrain from land or air, scout and track through woods, fields, and swamp, live and hunt off the land when necessary, in short everything a soldier must know in order to survive in enemy territory. But a Starhawk did not go into the woods and contemplate a flower for its beauty or watch a hawk soaring in the air for the sheer joy of flight.

Yet she could not help herself. She had been trained to be practical and focused all her life, trained to lead and command men. But the awakened Force within her cared not for her skills. Through it she became aware of all living things, not merely to discover weaknesses and strengths should she face them on a battlefield, but as they were connected in a web that stretched throughout the galaxy, each thing building upon something before. For the first time she realized that her life was not, did not, have to follow the narrow path mapped out for her by her mother. There were other things she could be besides Commander of the Starhawks.

Even a Jedi.

The idea made her shiver. It was not that a being a Jedi was wrong, for the Knights were respected throughout the galaxy, and the Starhawks regarded them as worthy allies and swordsmen, though not without a bit of scorn for their more mystical pursuits and their belief that there was more to reality than the here and now. When she had tentatively asked her mother's second, Major Alirath, if he believed that dreams were a sign of things to come, he had looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. "Dreams are just dreams, girl. No mystical sight guides my destiny, not by a long shot. Trusting in dreams will only get you killed. The only thing you should rely on is your Commander and your sword, that'll keep you safe. Most of the time."

To say she found Alirath's answer unhelpful was putting it mildly. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she could no longer follow her mother's advice and ignore her birthright. She must seek training in these new abilities, for she sensed that untrained she would be a danger to herself and those around her. And the only place to find those who could teach her were on Coruscant, more than a week away by a fast cruiser.

_I know better than to ask Mother's permission. She'd just look at me with her eagle eyes and tell Alirath to work me harder at practice since I haven't learned that a Starhawk needs no mystical Force to guide her. But she's wrong this time, I know she is. This isn't something that will go away. I have to learn to use it properly or it will end up using me. Maybe my father can help me. It's better than doing nothing. _

Kyra knew also that those untrained in the Jedi arts were often sought out by those of the Dark Side, who loved to prey upon those too weak to defend themselves, and made into slaves or worse. _I'd throw myself off a cliff before I let one of them use me like that, _she thought fiercely. _But what if I didn't know, until it was too late? _A frission of fear crawled up her spine._ A Sith Lord could make me betray the Starhawks, my family, everything I believe in. I can't risk it. Even if it means I have to leave without permission._

She winced. Leaving Hawk Haven without permission from the Commander was a serious offense, equivalent to betraying your commanding officer and dishonoring your sword and House Name. A person who was caught was immediately stripped of rank and sword, and made to serve his former friends as a drudge, after a lengthy questioning session with Commander and her chief officers. And while Kyra knew the Starhawks didn't practice torture, she suspected that an hour or more spent in the company of her mother in a temper would make the offender long for a quick execution. And once so disgraced it would require the luck of the gods to get back into the Commander's good graces, and be permitted to wear Starhawk blue again.

It wrenched at her heart to even consider such a thing, much less do it. All her life she had longed to be one thing, a Starhawk Commander like her mother. She had worked hard to earn the respect of her swordmaster and teachers, to prove that she was worthy of the name Aranell. Still, she knew beyond all doubt that her Force talents could not be denied. Nor, she realized, did she want to set them aside. _The gods have given me them as a sign of their favor. It would be wrong to refuse their gift. But Mother will never understand that. She already thinks my daydreaming and curiosity is a sign of weakness, a sign of the tainted blood of my father. But there's nothing wrong with dreams, so long as you have the courage to act upon them._

Once again the vision flashed through her mind, herself, holding a glowing lightsaber, battling a dark figure encased in mist. Determination warred with need, tempered by fear. If she did not defeat the Dark One it was the beginning of the end . . .

Abruptly she regained control, shivering in spite of the warm sun. Her indecision vanished. The warning of the vision was unmistakable. She must be trained in the Force, trained enough to defeat the dark figure of nightmare, else all she held dear would be swallowed by the Dark One and those who followed him. She would go to Coruscant, to her father Qui-Gon Jinn, and request they teach her the Jedi arts. The Jedi would help her decipher the visions, bring balance to her spirit.

Swiftly she headed for her rooms, mentally making a list of what she would need, and the best time to slip out of Hawk Haven unseen. _Gods in a circle, make my mother understand that my destiny lies elsewhere, _she prayed softly, knowing all the while that she may as well have asked the dead to dance as have her mother forgive her for choosing a path other than that of a Starhawk.

**Note: This is my first Stars Wars fic, an experiment if you will, so please be kind when reviewing! Thank you! **


	2. Chapter 2

The days passed in a blur, hardly giving her time to think. She booked passage on a cruiser, using the last of her savings to do so, one that would make Coruscant in a little less than a week. It was faster than Kyra had dared to hope, fast enough to make certain she would arrive at the Jedi Temple well before her mother thought to search in that direction. Kyra knew better than to think she could escape undetected, for her mother was one of the best scouts in the system, used to catching hardened criminals who were far craftier and clever in avoiding pursuit than an uncertain fifteen-year-old. It was only a matter of time before Commander Ilaren figured out where she was. But by then she would be safe from her mother's wrath, as a student of the Jedi Masters. Or so she hoped.

She kept to her cabin during the voyage, figuring that the less people who saw her the better. She was dressed in a plain tunic and pants of gray, one of the few clothes she owned that did not bear the crest of the Starhawks on it. A small pack contained two extra sets of clothes, a few days of ration packs, a flashlight, hand knife, two of her favorite books, and some extra battery packs for her vibroblade. At her belt was her vibroblade, and a small pouch which had contained credits (now gone) and a signet ring identifying her as the First Daughter of House Aranell, a silver hawk on a blue background. It was the same insignia as the Starhawks banner and would be the way she could prove her identity to the Jedi . . .and her father should he doubt her word.

Kyra spent hours rehearsing what she would say to the Jedi, how she would present herself. Should she announce herself as Kyranon of House Aranell, First Daughter of Ilaren? Or should she claim the name of her father, and be Kyranon Jinn, daughter of a Jedi Master? She did not know how the Jedi reckoned kinship, or if mattered at all if she was the offspring of one. She knew only that the prime requisite of a Jedi was the ability to sense and use the Force and that she could demonstrate with ease.

One thing was clear. She must not show fear, for fear was of the Dark Side. She must be calm as a breath of air upon water, unhindered by emotion, as she was when she practiced her sword forms. She would show the Jedi that she was capable of control, of discipline. She would not disgrace her Name or her sword. _I will bring honor to my House, this I swear by the gods, _she declared silently. _May my sword break if I am forsworn._

With her head high and her midnight blue cloak clasped tightly about her to ward off the chill, Kyranon stepped off the cruiser and into the streets of Coruscant. Her eyes widened at the noise and the myriad of people, aliens, and droids milling about. _Gods in a circle, how will I ever find my way to the Temple? I never thought it would be this big. Seven Hawk Havens could fit inside of it with room to spare. _One hand rested on her vibroblade, finding the cold touch of the steel handle reassuring. At least she was not unarmed in this sea of strangers. Forcing herself to reflect an air of calm familiarity, she strode through the bustling spaceport, trying not to gawk at the strange sights before her.

She spotted a silver encased protocol droid standing near the exit and made her way to it. "Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the Temple of the Jedi?"

"I am C14-01, at your service. How may I be of assistance?"

"I just told you. I need directions to the Jedi Temple." Kyra said softly.

"Oh, of course." The droid whistled happily. "It's two streets over to the right. In the middle of the hub. Just go straight, you can't miss it. It's the large pyramid building."

"Thank you." Kyra grinned and walked off. Behind her the droid whistled, "You are most welcome, lady Jedi."

Kyranon smothered a laugh at the droid's assumption. Imagine a Jedi asking directions to her own Temple. Swiftly she slipped into the crowd, moving easily about the crowds of people and creatures. She could feel the Force stirring about her, stronger than she had ever felt it before. Taking a deep breath, the former Starhawk allowed herself to touch the Force, letting it guide her to the steps of the Jedi Temple.

She stared up at the huge ebony doors in awe. The Force radiated from this place, permeating the very foundation with its brilliance and light. It wrapped about her like a blanket, cocooning her in warmth and peace, its touch as gentle as that of a mother comforting a frightened child. Suddenly she was no longer a stranger, alone in an unfamiliar world. The Temple welcomed her as one who belonged. _At last,_ she thought, _I have come home._

The feeling stayed with her as she mounted the steps, entered the ebony doors. Then her feet faltered as anxiety seized her. What if this was a mistake? What if she had come all this way for nothing? Suppose the Jedi Masters refused to accept her as their student? Suppose her father did not believe she was his daughter? She would have risked her mother's wrath and dishonored herself for nothing. For one instant doubt overwhelmed her, making her shake with fear of the unknown.

"Can I help you?" a girl's voice asked.

Kyranon glanced up to see a tall girl wearing brown robes coming toward her. Her anxiety surged within her, nearly strangling her. Then she reached out to the Force. A calm wave of reassurance flowed through her, banishing her doubts. This was right. She belonged here. She drew herself up, unconsciously echoing her mother's posture of command. She met the girl's friendly brown eyes squarely as befitted a daughter of the Starhawks.

"My name is Kyranon . . ." she paused for a moment, uncertain of how to identify herself, then said, " First Daughter of House Aranell. I wish to speak to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

The girl's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Is Master Qui-Gon expecting you? He didn't tell me he was receiving visitors today."

_That's because he doesn't know I exist_, Kyra thought wryly. _Just tell him his long-lost daughter is here to see him. _She was tempted to say just that, but feared the child would keel over in shock. Instead she said, "Not really. But I must speak to him. It's a matter of great urgency."

The girl frowned. "I'm afraid I can't let you into the Temple without permission from one of the Masters. Unannounced visitors are not allowed to wander the Temple without an escort . . ."

"Fine. Then escort me to Master Qui-Gon." Kyra ordered, allowing a note of impatience to creep into her tone. She'd be damned if she was going to be stopped at the front door by a conscientious little serving girl, protocol or no protocol.

The girl hesitated. "I'm only a novice, lady, and Master Qui-Gon is now meditating. To interrupt a Master at meditation would be, well, disrespectful."

Kyra sighed. "Look, I don't want you to get in trouble, but I need to speak to him. It's about the Force."

"The Force? Well . . ."

"If he gets mad at you, I'll tell him it was my fault. Then he can yell at me all he wants. All right, uh, what's your name?"

"Seera." The novice answered, giggling. "And Master Qui-Gon would never yell at you. It's not the way of the Jedi."

Kyranon raised an eyebrow at that but made no comment. She was certain Qui-Gon would not say hello and how are you when she told him who she was.

"This way," Seera beckoned her down the long hallway.

They had not traveled more than a few hundred yards down the brightly-lit hall when a tall man wearing a dark cloak emerged from one of the rooms ahead of them. He headed toward them, moving with the unconscious grace of a born warrior. His dark hair was long and drawn back in a tail. He appeared to be no more than forty-five at the most, his face framed by a short clipped brown beard above which sparkled eyes of startling blue. The eyes smiled at her, halting her in her tracks. They were the same as her own.

"Master Qui-Gon!" Seera exclaimed. "I was just coming to tell you that you have a visitor. Her name is-"

"Kyranon of House Aranell," Kyra finished, her throat gone dry as dust. She extended her left hand, where she wore the signet ring of her House.

The Jedi Master took her hand in his own large one, staring wordlessly at the signet ring. Then his eyes lifted to meet her own. In them was surprise and . . . recognition? "You are Ilaren's daughter."

It was not a question, but a statement of fact. Slowly, Kyranon nodded. _And yours_, her heart whispered the words she did not dare say aloud. Not yet.

"I can't believe . . ." he trailed off, glancing at the novice Seera, only then recalling she was there. "Thank you, Seera. You may go now."

Seera bowed once and was gone.

Qui-Gon studied the slender girl before him in silence, too astonished to say anything for a moment. It had been sixteen years since he had last seen Ilaren of House Aranell, sixteen years since he had bid her farewell upon the shores of Sethanar Beach. Yet her face remained engraved upon his mind and heart. For one instant he had thought she had come back to him, the height and the face on this girl was an uncanny echo of the woman he had loved. Even her hair was the same shade of gold. Only the length was different. Ilaren had never permitted her hair to grow past her shoulders. Too much of a disadvantage in a fight, she had said_. She is Ilaren all over again. Save for the eyes. Those are mine._ His breath caught at the thought. But there was no way he could deny it. His daughter stood before him. _All those years and she never told me._

Kyra shifted uneasily under the Jedi's piercing stare. _Is there something wrong with me? _She wondered frantically. _Has my nose turned blue or something? Maybe he's trying to find a polite way to, gods forbid, tell me to leave!_ Swallowing sharply, she opened her mouth to speak, but he said, "You must be tired. You've come a long way. Please, come into my quarters. I'll have refreshments brought and then you can tell me why you've come."

His brown cloak swirling about him like the wings of a gigantic falcon, Qui-Gon led the way into his quarters. Kyra entered a large room colored in soft browns and earth tones. Colorful tapestries hung upon the walls. In the center of the room was a long table of white quartz surrounded by a long low couch of soft blue material. To the right was a curved archway leading back into a bed chamber. Qui-Gon gestured for her to be seated, then he left, presumably to fetch the promised refreshments. Kyra seated herself gingerly on the couch, finding it warm and soothing. The couch was filled with a soft gel-like substance that conformed to her body, making her feel as if she was sitting on a warm fluffy cloud. Grinning, Kyra allowed herself to relax. This was a Tyndarian whisper couch, she realized. She had always wanted one, but her mother had refused to buy one, saying it would make her soft.

Kyra shook her head. Another of her mother's odd notions disproved. Qui-Gon was a warrior and he was not at all soft or weak from sitting on this couch. The rest of the room was decorated simply but tastefully, relaxing to both the eye and mind. It was so soothing that she nearly fell asleep. Qui-Gon's soft footstep brought her back to full alertness. Horrified at her lapse of control, Kyranon sat up, flushing in shame.

Qui-Gon took no notice, or if he did, he did not bother to comment on it. He set a small tray down on the table. It contained a bowl of orange and yellow fruit, some bread and a pitcher and two glasses of pink tava juice. Qui-Gon seated himself next to her and folded his hands in his sleeves. Good manners dictated he wait until his guest had been served before eating.

Kyranon eyed the food uneasily, wondering if her stomach would allow her to keep anything down. She took a piece of fruit from the bowl and a glass of juice. Politely, she sipped at the juice. The sweet tart taste was like nectar on her parched throat. She had to fight to keep from gulping down the whole glass. It would never do for her to act like an ill-mannered street brat before her father. So she contented herself with small sips.

Qui-Gon seemed to sense her longing, for he smiled and said, "There's more in that pitcher if you want it. Help yourself."

"Thank you, sir," she said and promptly downed the whole glass in one swallow. She poured another and drank this one more slowly. Suddenly she was starving, having skipped the evening meal and breakfast aboard the ship. She bit into the fruit, finding it reminded her of the apples she grew in the orchard back home. Qui-Gon nibbled on a piece of bread, waiting until she had finished the fruit before he spoke.

"So, Kyranon, what brings you all the way from Salishar to see me?"

Kyranon opened her mouth to answer and found herself saying something totally different from what she had intended. She had been going to explain about her use of the Force, but what came out instead was, "She never told you about me, did she? That I was your daughter." There. It was said. Now the awkward silence between them vanished.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No."

The word was said calmly, yet underneath the calmness she could sense resentment and hurt, though he masked them well. It made her angry at her mother, that she had not even done him the courtesy of informing him he had a child, as was the proper thing to do. _Why did she keep my birth a secret?_ "She didn't even tell me who _you_ were until two years ago." Kyra said softly, half in apology. "On Salishar it's customary for mothers to raise their daughters alone if they wish. She only told me because I started to show signs of being able to use the Force, I think."

Qui-Gon did not seem surprised by this. "Yes, I'm familiar with your customs." He smiled faintly. "I spent five years on Salishar." _As husband and consort to the Commander of the Starhawks_, he added silently. "The Force is strong in you."

"I know. That's why I came here. To find you and . . ." she halted suddenly, studying her hands, which were clenched into white-knuckled fists. She forced herself to relax. "And to ask you to train me to become a Jedi."

Her words exploded in Qui-Gon's ears with force of a repulsor beam. He was so astonished he almost asked her to repeat what she had said. For she could not possibly know that what she had asked was well nigh impossible. Had he known of her sooner things would have been different. Instead Ilaren had hidden her from him, and her potential had gone unrecognized, until now. She would have made a fine Jedi, he thought wistfully. If only . . .There was no use in reflecting on what might have been, he reminded himself sternly. One cannot change the past, only the future. "I wish that were possible," he said quietly.

"Why isn't it?" Kyra cried, an icy fist of dread squeezing her heart. It appeared she was wrong. The Jedi could not help her after all. "I thought only the Jedi could train others in the right way to use the Force."

"They can," Qui-Gon reached out and placed a hand soothingly on her arm. "But you are a great deal older than our usual apprentices. Most of them are tiny children when we bring them here. They grow up in the Temple, immersed in the Force from the time they can remember. Most never remember their parents or where they were born. Unless of course those parents are Jedi."

Kyranon stared at him in disbelief. "You mean you think you can't teach me because I'm too old? But that's-that's ridiculous. Why should my age have anything to do with it? Just because I didn't grow up here doesn't mean I can't learn everything everyone else knows. I'm smart and I learn very quickly, even my mother would admit that. And I'm your daughter, doesn't that count for anything?" That last was said in a whisper so soft Qui-Gon barely heard it. Abruptly, she looked away, not wanting him to see the sudden tears that rose in her eyes. She was a Starhawk and Starhawks never cried in front of strangers. _Except_, a small voice whispered, _this isn't a stranger. He's your father._

"Of course it does." The Jedi Master's voice was low and soothing. "I'm sorry, I'm not handling this at all well." He shook his head. "It's just that I never expected . . . never mind. I'm glad you've come here. It's where you should be. There are no coincidences, as Yoda would say. The Force brought you here for a reason."

Kyra turned around and stared at him, a tiny kernel of hope blooming inside her. "Then you aren't going to send me away?"

"Send you away? Gods in a circle, no!" Qui-Gon exclaimed.

Kyra smiled at the expression. It was something he could only have learned on Salishar.

"You can stay here as my guest, while I speak with the Council. It may take awhile, the Council tends to look at all sides of an issue before deciding, you understand." He peered at her sharply. "Does Ilaren know you're here?"

Kyra swallowed sharply and looked away. She didn't dare to lie, a Jedi Master would accept nothing less than the truth. "Not exactly. I mean she probably knows now but, well, I didn't tell her where I was going. I guess I . . .ran away."

Qui-Gon's eyebrow rose. "Either you did or you didn't," he said sternly.

Kyranon forced herself to meet his gaze. "I ran away, sir. I had to. Mother didn't want me to use the Force. I'd been having dreams, visions, really, and when I told her she told me that I should forget about it. A Starhawk didn't rely on mystical powers. For awhile I tried to do as she said, but it didn't work. The dreams only got stronger. Then I started being able to sense feelings in people and animals. I found I could command the winds. I felt as if everything around me was connected, bound together in an unending web. It was wonderful. I didn't want to stop being able to feel that way. It was wrong of her to tell me not use what I'd been born with." She declared defiantly. "So I came here, because I know someone has to teach me how to use the Force the right way, so I don't hurt anyone." _Or betray anyone._

"You were right in coming to me." Qui-Gon reassured her. "But," he leveled a stern finger at her. "You were wrong to leave without telling your mother where you'd gone. She deserved the courtesy of a message at least. She's probably out of her mind with worry right now."

"Out of her mind with anger is more like it." Kyra told him. "She knows where I've gone by now. It's pretty obvious. But I had no other choice. She would never have let me come. She wants me to be a Starhawk, like her. She doesn't understand that my destiny lies elsewhere."

"Perhaps. Even a Jedi can't always see the future. You may be right. Or not. What will be, will be. Ilaren always had trouble with that concept." The Jedi Master sighed. "This will get worse before it gets better, I'm afraid. I'll inform the Council today of your arrival. They will determine if you can remain here as an apprentice. Then I'll send a message to your mother. I don't think she'll forgive either of us for a long time if the Council accepts you."

Kyranon wanted badly to ask what would become of her if the Council refused her request, but didn't dare. She didn't want to know. "I don't think she'll forgive me at all," she said in a small voice.

"Not at first, but Ilaren was never one to hold grudges forever." Qui-Gon told her, patting her shoulder. "No mother can stay angry at her child forever."

"I hope you're right." Kyranon whispered. _Otherwise I'll belong nowhere._ She shivered, unaccountably cold; her eyes wide and vulnerable in her small face, making her look younger than she was.

Her eyes tore at Qui-Gon's soul and at last he did what he had longed to do from the first moment he had seen her. He took her in his arms and held her. "It'll be all right, Bright Eyes. I promise." His hand stroked her hair, long golden hair so like Ilaren's that it brought a lump to his throat.

Kyra went limp against him, allowing herself to be comforted. It had been so long since anyone had held her like this, not since she had been five. The life of a Starhawk did not allow much time for hugs and gentleness. Ilaren had always been a Commander first and a mother second. But Qui-Gon, she sensed, was different.

At last he released her and stood. "Come. I'll show you where you can stay." He glanced at her small backpack. "Didn't bring much with you, did you?"

"A Starhawk travels light on a mission," Kyra told him, smiling a little. "Call me Kyra. Everyone does. Even Mother only uses my full name when she's angry at me."

Qui-Gon laughed. "I'll be sure to tell the Council so, but they tend to be more formal than I am, Kyra."

"I understand," the girl murmured and followed her father down the hallway. Qui-Gon led her to a large room overlooking the Temple gardens. It was furnished simply if elegantly, containing a bed and dresser a table and, miracle of all miracles, a Tyndarian whisper couch in a light mauve shade. Kyra nearly gasped. Her room at home had been half the size and had been strictly functional, as were all the Starhawks sleeping quarters.

Qui-Gon turned to her. "I must go speak with the Council. If you need anything, just press this button." He indicated a blue button on a black console to the right of the door. "A droid will come and get you anything you want. Later, I will show you the Temple, and you can go where you wish, but for now stay here."

Kyranon nodded. Qui-Gon turned to go. "Good luck, Father," she called after him. The appellation rolled off her tongue as easily as if she'd been calling him that all of her life. It felt right. She settled herself on the couch, intending to meditate on her feelings. Instead she found her thoughts wandering back to her mother. _You loved him once, you must have. How could you not? I love him already and I've only known him for an hour. Gods in a circle, Mother, why couldn't you have told him about me long ago? It would have been nice to know him when I was a child still._

The Jedi Council had ruled that Kyranon be allowed to wait a week before they tested her, so that she might be given time to clear her mind of distractions. Also to resolve whatever differences existed between her and her mother. The Council was not pleased at her decision to run away without telling Commander Ilaren where she was; they valued the goodwill of the Starhawks highly and did not want any hard feelings between them. Kyranon knew better. Her mother was not one to place blame where it did not belong. The Jedi would not be the target of her wrath. Her disobedient daughter would. Qui-Gon had sent a message, as he had promised. Her mother would be arriving at the end of the week. Kyra grimaced. The coming confrontation would probably shake the Temple to its foundations. Her mother's temper had a way of making any that survived it feeling as if they had been on the receiving end of a sonic detonator.

_What will be, will be_, Kyra thought, echoing Qui-Gon's advice. Clipping her vibroblade to her belt, she followed the spiraling corridor down to the ground level of the Temple to the area where the young Jedi students practiced with lightsabers and staves. It was early in the day, almost first light, and the practice area was empty, as she had hoped it would be. She was used to practicing alone without an audience, at least for these first sessions. Later she would see if any of the Jedi trainees would be willing to spar with her. But for now it was just her sword and herself.

She activated the vibroblade. With a soft snap-hiss the emerald blade came to life. Reverently she bowed in homage to the seven gods of the circle. "Honor to my sword and Thee," she said, repeating the ritual words she had learned long before at age five, the day she had a real practice blade placed in her hand. Then she glided into the first steps of her sword forms, limbering her wrists and arms, for the first pattern she had learned required deft movements of arms and hands. Starhawk sword forms were designed for warriors who relied more on accuracy and quickness than brute strength, for most of the company were of average height and build, sinewy and strong, but not huge. And half of its members were female, which meant that they did not have the size to use standard combat techniques. But it did not matter. The Starhawks were among the finest swordsman in the galaxy, able to defeat opponents many times their size and strength with a minimum of energy.

Kyra brought the blade up and around in a swirling maneuver called Parting the Air. Then she took herself through the quick, lightning like combination of thrusts and cuts known as the Wildcat's Dance. Her sword hummed in the air, moving so quickly it was little more than a green blur of light. Without conscious thought she lost herself in the sword dance, her awareness of the room fell away until she stood at the center of a sea of light, where her sword arced and leaped before her like a winged fury. At the same time she was preternaturally aware of her surroundings, keyed to notice the slightest shift in the air that would signal an enemy's approach, or in this case, a spectator.

The dark-haired boy watched the girl leap and glide through her practice session like a leaf on the wind, or perhaps the wind itself. Each move she made was precise, accurate, with no extraneous motion, and yet she made the difficult routine seem like a dance, graceful and smooth and utterly mesmerizing. He had never seen a girl so young display such a level of swordsmanship, one that he thought was equal to most of the Jedi Masters at the Temple. Her skill was something he could only dream about, for he was almost certain he would never gain the necessary reflexes needed to perform the more complex sword maneuvers.

The Force, he sensed, flowed around and through the girl in a never-ending ribbon of light, she used it almost reflexively, as if she no longer had to think about touching it to make it do her bidding. Again, something that he did not think he could ever attain. But who was she? He knew of no student at the Temple that was as skilled as she was in the use of the Force and the sword. Then he remembered. No student was she. At least, not yet.

Kyra spun around, ending with a reverse thrust that left both her and the boy breathless. She switched off the sword and walked forward. During her practice, her braid had come partially undone and now straggled about her head like a golden waterfall. "Hello."

"Hi. You must be Kyranon."

"I am." She answered, studying the boy, who looked to be about thirteen or thereabouts, still gangly with his first growth spurt. "And you are?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi." He smiled and held out his hand.

She clasped it in return and was startled to find that his hand, like her own bore calluses from long handling of a sword. "You're a student of the Jedi?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah, but I'm not as skilled as you with a sword. That's a vibroblade isn't it?"

"An SG-35. Standard officer issue for a Starhawk." She explained at his look of awe.

"You're a Starhawk?"

"Well, I was. I won't be any more if my mother has anything to say about it." Kyra told him regretfully.

"Why?"

"She's my commander and I left without permission so I could come here, to be trained as a Jedi. If the Council allows it, that is."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Sounds like you're in a lot of trouble."

Kyra shot him a mischievous grin. "No worse than usual, I guess. At least I'm not being attacked by a Mydoran swamp cat."

"_You_ survived an attack by a swamp cat?" the boy exclaimed. "But their claws are deadly, filled with venom that can paralyze you in minutes. And they move quicker than thought. How did you fight it?"

"I didn't. I summoned a wind to keep it from me and then I ran like an alicorn with its tail in a trap."

"Can't say I blame you." He looked her up and down. "It's almost like you were one of the heroes out of a story or something."

Kyra laughed. "I wish. Actually my life has been pretty ordinary, except for a few things, until now. I was just the daughter of Commander Ilaren, just another Starhawk. Now I guess I'm a deserter and the daughter of a Jedi Master."

"Whose daughter are you?" Obi-Wan asked, then flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"No, it's all right. I don't need to hide who I am. My father is Qui-Gon Jinn. Do you know him?"

"Know him? He's my Master. I'm his apprentice."

"Well . . .I guess there really are no coincidences."

"That's what Master Yoda always says." Obi-Wan agreed. He shot a longing glance at her vibroblade. "That reverse thrust you did . . .could you show me how to do it? You made it look so easy, but I know it's not."

"No, it isn't. It took me years to learn how to do that properly. Watch." She ignited her vibroblade and went through the exercise slowly enough so that Obi-Wan could see exactly how it was done. "Now you try."

Obi-Wan powered up his lightsaber. Then he attempted the same maneuver.

"No. Stand like this, perpendicular to the blade." Kyra positioned his hands on the hilt again. "Now swing down and back, but make sure you hold the blade away from you, otherwise you might cut off something vital."

Obi-Wan blushed. "My lightsaber isn't at full strength. No student's is. The Jedi don't permit it." He stared at her emerald blade in dawning astonishment. "You mean, you just did that entire practice with a fully charged blade?"

"Of course." Kyra said, not understanding his surprise. "I've been handling a fully charged blade for three years now, ever since I passed my Fifth-Level Sword tests. I started handling a practice blade when I was five. The only time I use a sword on low power is if I'm training new recruits."

Obi-Wan whistled softly. "That's incredible. I wish I was half as good as you are."

"You can be." Kyra told him. "All it takes is dedication and practice. Lots and lots of practice." She made a face. "If my swordmaster were here, he'd give me five demerits for talking instead of practicing. An agile tongue saves no lives like an agile sword." She quoted.

"But you did practice," Obi-Wan said, confused.

"_That_ was only the beginning. A warm-up. I still have four more patterns to go through."

Obi-Wan only nodded, he could not help but admire her stamina. A session like the one she had just demonstrated would have left him unable to move for two days. It appeared that the stories of Starhawk discipline were not as exaggerated as he had thought. "What happens to you if you get five demerits?"

"They make you go and scrub pots and cook dinner for a week. And on the nights you don't cook they make sure you have lots and lots of pots to scrub. If you get ten demerits you have to scrub pots and clean all the vehicles, and that's in addition to any other chores your commander sees fit to give you. That doesn't count your normal lessons. You're expected to do them _and_ any extra punishment details you get. Once my mother made me sit inside and embroider a whole tapestry for two weeks. I almost went crazy. I_ hate_ sewing."

"What did you do to deserve that?"

"I was where I shouldn't have been. Getting attacked by the swamp cat." Kyra smiled ruefully. "Most of the time, you're real careful about getting any more than five demerits." She shrugged and withdrew her blade. "I'll be done with my practice in about an hour. You can stay if you want, then we can go have lunch. Okay?"

"Sure." Obi-Wan grinned and settled back against the wall to watch. If these next sessions were anything like the first, he wouldn't even notice an hour had gone by. As the days passed, he wasn't the only Jedi apprentice who showed up to watch the former Starhawk practice. Word spread through the Temple like wildfire and soon a group of ten eager trainees were gathered in the area, watching breathlessly as Kyranon thrust and parried. After the individual exercises, she would often ask one or another of them to spar with her. No one ever refused her invitation.

Kyra had never been so happy in all her life, except perhaps on the day she had received her first real vibroblade from Commander Ilaren. She had always been set apart at Hawk Haven, first because she was the daughter of the Commander and then because of her skill with the Force. There were not many kids her own age at the compound, for most Starhawks died before they could raise a family and those that didn't retired and lived elsewhere with their families. For the first time in years she was with people her own age, people who understood the Force and would not look down upon her for using it.

Then too there was Qui-Gon. She found the Jedi Master to be gentle and patient, and endlessly forgiving of her mistakes with the Force. So unlike her teachers at Hawk Haven who had a soldier's impatience with incompetence. She wished this time could last forever, knowing all the while it could not. This was merely the calm before the storm. For her mother would be arriving soon, and Kyranon had the sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same once she had gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Commander Ilaren of House Aranell strode through the Jedi Temple corridor like the wind of death, her brilliant green eyes dark with fury. Servants and droids scattered from her path like leaves in a thunderstorm, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to remove themselves from her vicinity. Not one dared to meet her eyes. The Commander ignored them all, paying them no more heed than the stones beneath her boots. On her shoulder rode a great white hawk, a vorcel hawk, great golden eyes surveying everything with cool disdain. The vorcel hawk was called Sirath, and he was Ilaren's bonded companion, an honor given only to the Commander of the Starhawks. Vorcel hawks were extremely intelligent and possessed the ability to sense the Force and manipulate it to a certain degree. That a vorcel hawk had chosen to bond with her spoke highly for Ilaren's character, despite her temper.

But even that did not prevent the Jedi Masters from exiting the Council chambers at something more than a dignified walk. Even Yoda did not stay, but instead told Qui-Gon, "The Commander is your problem, Master Qui-Gon. Deal with her you must, need us nearby you do not."

Qui-Gon bit back a laugh. It seemed that Ilaren could make even Jedi Masters think flight the better part of valor. He almost wished he could go with them. He had faced Ilaren in a temper more than once, and they were not memories he cared to dwell on. But Yoda was correct. Ilaren was his concern, not the Temple's. He had married her after all. He remained where he was, hands tucked into the sleeves of his Jedi robes, waiting with seemingly infinite patience for her arrival.

He did not have to wait long. She entered the Council chambers like a whirlwind, her eyes bright with the need to do battle. He almost smiled, for the anger brought a light to her face that was extremely attractive. _Like a moth to a flame,_ he thought wryly. _And yet I can't seem to help myself._

Ilaren halted mere inches from him. "Qui-Gon." She said his name as if it pained her. "Where is she? What have you done with her?"

"Done with her? Nothing." Qui-Gon said calmly. "Why don't we sit down and discuss this . . ."

"We have nothing to discuss, Qui-Gon Jinn!" Ilaren snapped. "All I want is my daughter back."

"Ilaren, what if she doesn't want to come back? She's strong in the Force, she needs to be trained—"

"By you? Ha! Jedi Master, you flatter yourself. She's a Starhawk to the bone, and her place is with me. I don't know what lies you told her to seduce her into coming here, but they won't work on me."

Qui-Gon's eyes flashed. "I never even knew of her until she showed up on the Temple doorstep. A fact which _you_ chose to omit in all of your correspondences with me. You might have at least mentioned her as a courtesy. Even your customs permit that."

Ilaren flushed and glanced away. But only for a moment. Then she struck back, her vulnerability hidden behind the spear of her anger. "She was mine to raise, not yours. A daughter belongs to her mother, as well you know, Qui-Gon. She will be Commander after me, as all the First Daughters and Sons of my House have been for centuries. As it was, so it shall be."

Her implacable tone did not phase the Jedi. He knew the best defense against her anger was logic. "Except she is no ordinary child. She inherited my abilities with the Force. Her destiny lies with me now."

Ilaren drew herself up, seething in rage, and for a moment Qui-Gon thought she might strike him. But she was not one to let her emotions run unchecked. "That choice is not yours to make!"

"You're right. It's mine."

Both Starhawk and Jedi whirled to face the one who had spoken with such determination. Kyranon walked into the room, her head held high, moving with the self-assurance of one who has long ago chosen her path. There was nothing remorseful or guilty about her attitude, as there should have been from a soldier who had disgraced herself and her commander as Kyra had.

Ilaren eyed her recalcitrant daughter icily. "Your place is where I tell you, Lieutenant. I have not dismissed you from my service. Yet." The Commander's voice cut like a whip in the still air, her threat unmistakable.

Kyranon bore it without flinching. "Then I resign. Mother, I cannot be a Starhawk and a Jedi. The Force has shown me where I must go, what I must be. I cannot fight that, anymore than I can fight the wind or the sea. I belong here. Can't you see that?"

"What I see is a disobedient child who has disgraced both her sword and her Commander." Kyra went pale at the stinging words. It was the worst insult a Starhawk could be given. "Have you no concept of what you have done? Absent without leave! Even the rawest recruit knows better than that, and you the Commander's daughter besides. And what is your reason? To chase a dream, following some mystical presence you can neither see nor hear. A true Starhawk needs only her honor and her sword."

The words were like a sword thrust to her heart. Kyra felt her stomach turn over. She shuddered, then darted a look at Qui-Gon. The Jedi shook his head sadly. Clearly he did not agree with her mother's assessment. Kyranon's mouth firmed. She knew her mother wanted her to feel guilty for choosing a Jedi over the Starhawks. Perversely, the knowledge only made her twice as determined and twice as angry.

"There is more to life than being a Starhawk, Mother. I never understood that before. But now I do. The path of a Jedi is honorable too." Her tone sharpened, becoming more defiant as her anger grew. "I may be your daughter, but I'm not your reflection. And no matter how hard you try you can't make me into something I'm not. With my consent or without it."

The words were pure challenge, the ages old challenge of the young fledgling to the old hawk to fly free without fetters. It hit Ilaren like a swordthrust to the gut. And true to her Starhawk heritage she reacted to the hurt by lashing out at the source. Before Qui-Gon could intervene, Ilaren lifted her hand and slapped Kyra across the face. The blow snapped the girl's head back, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the still room.

For a moment no one moved.

"_Ilaren!_" Qui-Gon shouted, fury and astonishment in his tone. He moved swiftly to put himself in front of his daughter, who bore the imprint of her mother's hand on her cheek like a scarlet brand.

"Stay out of this, Qui-Gon!" the Starhawk snapped. "This doesn't concern you anymore."

"I beg to differ," the Jedi Master said frostily, his blue eyes cold with anger he did not bother to hide. "She spoke the truth. Just because you didn't like it doesn't give you the right to hit her. The choice was and still is hers to make. Not mine. Not yours. Only hers."

Ilaren glared at him, stubbornness and anger warring with the logic of his words. Kyra stepped around Qui-Gon, coming to stand before her mother again, unwilling to let another fight her battles, Ilaren noted with a touch of pride. _A Starhawk indeed. My daughter. And yet she would leave me for him!_ Jealousy flared hot and swift in her veins like a poisoned arrow. So Kyranon thought she could defy her and not suffer the consequences, protected by the Jedi and their oh-so-powerful Force? Not in this lifetime!

"The choice is hers indeed." Ilaren said softly, her words edged in steel. "Then so are the consequences. Kyranon of House Aranell, for desertion of your duty and your Commander, I declare you stripped of your rank as a Starhawk officer. For your defiance toward the Head of your House, I declare you _vrekarin_—"

"_Commander, don't!"_ Sirath cried. The white hawk had remained silent throughout the confrontation, as a rule vorcel hawks did not concern themselves in the affairs of their bondmates unless it was a matter of life and death. That he chose to do so now meant Ilaren was making a grave mistake. _"Think before you speak. Once said it cannot be unsaid."_

"Be quiet, Sirath!" the Commander snarled, and continued. "Outcast, bereft of House and Name, your sword that of a rogue, dishonored beyond reclaiming. I have no daughter of House Aranell."

The words echoed in the silence like the knell of doom. For an awful instant Kyra feared she would die, the pain in her heart was so great. Stripped of her rank she had expected, discharged from the Starhawks as she had requested, but to be declared outcast, a non-entity, bereft of Name and sword like a criminal! Even Sirath had seen the unfairness of such an act. Hot tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall. She would not give the Commander the satisfaction of seeing how much those words hurt.

"So be it. I am Kyranon Jinn now, daughter of a Jedi Master. And my sword and my honor remain my own." Kyranon declared softly, gathering the last shreds of courage about her. "My condolences on your loss, Commander." Then she bowed once and turned on her heel, leaving the chamber as fast as she could without running. _So be it, Mother. Now there will be no one to light the fire or dance the swords at your death, as would have been my right as your daughter. You will die alone as is your wish! A kinless woman._ _Like your daughter._ Tears burned the back of her throat, but her eyes remained dry.

Behind her she could hear Qui-Gon's voice, low and stern, arguing with the Starhawk Commander. Kyranon did not wait to hear more. She fled, her heart shattering into pieces as she ran.

"Gods in a circle, Ilaren!" the Jedi Master snapped. "How could you do such a thing? She's your daughter!"

Ilaren turned, began walking toward the door. "I have no daughter, Jedi Master. She is dead to me."

"I know you may wish it so, Commander." Qui-Gon told her sternly. "But it doesn't change the fact that she is your blood. I know you're angry now, I would be too, were I in your place. But to declare your only child an _outcast_? Even your hawk agrees that's too harsh a punishment."

Ilaren did not answer for a long moment. Then she turned to face him. And beneath the anger he sensed a deep hurt. "She has made her choice, Qui-Gon. As I have made mine."

"You are as stubborn as a rock, Ilaren Aranell. And she is almost as bad as you." He peered at the commander intently. He sensed there was more to her decision than mere anger. Ilaren had been a Commander too long to let that get in the way of her decisions. No, it was almost as if . . . Then it hit him. "You're jealous! Because she chose to be a Jedi over a Starhawk. Can't you see even now that this was the only choice she could make? Her ability in the Force will only grow stronger, if untrained it could destroy her and those around her. Not all those who come to the Temple become Jedi. Some merely receive training in the Force and then leave."

"But not her."

"No. She has the calling. As it was for me, so I think it is for her." Qui-Gon reached out, touched the Commander on the shoulder. "Is that so wrong? Do you hold all Jedi in contempt, or only me?" he queried gently.

"No! It's not that. . . Qui-Gon, I never would have married you if I felt that way. But she was all I had . . .my blade-heir . . .and now she must become a Jedi."

"I understand. But, Ilaren, sometimes the ones you love most you must let go."

She stared up at him, her green eyes misty with tears. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. For one moment he held her, as he might have held an injured wild hawk. Then she drew away.

"Those are wise words, Master Qui-Gon. See that you remember them, when at last you need to let her go also."

Then she turned and was gone. Qui-Gon watched her go, a wistful expression on his face as he thought of what could have been and now would never be. It was ironic, really, that Kyra had been right when she had said her mother would not forgive her. But perhaps in time . . .Shaking his head, the Jedi Master continued back down the corridor. This meeting had not gone at all as he had expected. He could only hope the Council would decide in Kyra's favor.

He found her in the practice arena, intent upon battering the remotes into tiny pieces. The Force trembled with her rage, mixed in with sorrow and resentment. An unhealthy combination if ever there was one. Her control appeared to have deserted her, at least for the moment.

He watched her battle several more remotes for a few minutes, pleased with how well she handled a blade. She was far more advanced than any student her age at the temple, was probably a match for a few of the Masters as well. But that was to be expected. Ilaren had trained her after all, and he had yet to see a finer swordswoman this side of the Republic. Still, what mattered now was her state of mind, not her sword work.

Calmly, he reached out through the Force and switched off the remotes. They fell to the floor with a sharp clatter. Kyra whirled, blade half raised.

"It's never wise to give in to negative emotions. They can too easily be turned against you. Especially in combat. Give in to hate and it will consume you, turn you to the Dark Side." He began.

"I don't hate her . . .not really. I just wish . . ."

"Resentment isn't good either. It is better to accept a person's faults and then move on."

"That's easy for you to say. _You_ weren't made into an outcast!" Kyranon cried, too hurt to care that she was being disrespectful. "How can you say I should just forget it?" She turned around, her hand clenched, refusing to hear any more.

"Kyranon."

The stern tone brought her about automatically. Half defiantly, she faced him, like a child who fears a scolding but is determined to take it bravely.

"Come here," he ordered softly, and held out his arms.

She came to him then, clinging to him like a drowning man clings to a lifeline. "What your mother said was wrong, cruel even. But becoming bitter over this won't help. You can't change the past, only the future. Someday she may even forgive you."

"Not in this life," she muttered into his shoulder.

"You'd be surprised. Let it go, child. Such feelings can only hurt you, and you've been hurt enough, I think. All right?"

Kyra did not answer. Instead she buried her face in Qui-Gon's tunic, crying soundlessly. The Jedi Master held her, murmuring soothingly, allowing her grief to run its course. At last she lifted her head and gave him a tremulous smile.

"I'll do it. But only because you want me to."

Qui-Gon was wise enough to leave it at that for now. With time and training, her feelings would change, as she came to understand that words spoken in anger were often the ones you meant the least and regretted the most.

The next day The Jedi Council summoned Kyra before them to undergo their testing. She was required to use the Force in a variety of ways, and questioned on the clarity and insight of her visions. The one of the dark nightmare disturbed the Masters greatly, but as yet nothing could be done about it. "Difficult to predict, this is," Yoda stated. "Great danger this vision shows. Be wary, daughter of Qui-Gon. But do nothing yet. Now is not the time."

Kyra wanted to ask when was the right time, but she feared the Masters, wise as they were, did not know the answer, and so she remained silent. They sent her away finally, saying they must discuss her future alone. She went, limp with relief, and found Obi-Wan, who gave her a sympathetic grin, and offered to practice sword forms with her. She agreed. There was no telling when the Council would call her back, and there was no sense brooding about what might be. She spent the next hour immersed in the dance of swords. At the end of the hour, a messenger summoned her back into the Council chambers.

"You are skilled in the sword, young Kyranon," Mace Windu said. "Very skilled. You have a warrior's heart."

"Indeed." Yoda agreed. "But the heart of a Jedi? That remains to be seen."

Kyranon felt her hopes dissolve into mist. They would never accept her. She was an outcast truly, belonging nowhere. But she concealed her despair behind a shield of stoic acceptance. Show no fear. Cast out doubt. Those lead to the Dark Side.

"But," Yoda continued, his beady eyes softening a touch, or so it seemed. "The Force flows through you. You have learned to control your fear, to cast out anger. Despite your age, your innocence remains."

"But what of her mother?" another Master spoke up. "She had a great deal to do with the choice this child made."

"Not any more, Master," Kyra interrupted, greatly daring. "It was the Force who led me to you. My mother does not understand that. She has said the choice is mine to make. And I have chosen."

"So you have, Kyranon Jinn." Mace Windu nodded. He turned to the other assembled Jedi. "Yet you are old to begin instruction in our arts. You have seen much, done much. There is still resentment in you over your mother's choice. That could hinder your training."

There was a murmur of agreement from the other seven members.

Then Yoda spoke. "An apprentice you may not be. Not yet. First you must prove you have a Jedi's heart. Demonstrate this you must, in a month's time, and you shall be trained. Fail and you must leave, once you have learned control. Listen to your heart, daughter of Qui-Gon. Much wisdom is there. May the Force be with you."

Kyranon bowed, careful to hide her disappointment. "And also with you, Master." A month of trying to prove she was worthy as a Jedi. It was much less than she had hoped for. But better than the alternative. _I will show them. The Force will guide me._

Bowing once more, she departed the chamber. _So begins my first day as a Jedi trainee._

Emerging from the doors, she nearly ran into Obi-Wan. The dark-haired apprentice had obviously been waiting for her, for he seized her arm and led her off to a side passage. "Well? What did they say? Are you to be trained?" he queried eagerly.

"Eavesdropping is very bad manners," Kyra chided, waving a finger at him in mock reproof. "Didn't your Master teach you that?"

"I wasn't paying attention that day," Obi-Wan admitted shamelessly. "Besides, the Council chambers are soundproof. I couldn't hear a thing. _What_ did they say?"

Kyra took pity on him. "I can't be trained as a Jedi. I have to wait a month, to show the Masters proof of my commitment. I have to demonstrate that I have a Jedi's heart. Otherwise they won't accept me."

"Well, that's something anyway."

"I guess so. I just wish I knew what qualities they were looking for."

"Dedication to duty. Courage. Humility. Control over negative emotions." Obi-Wan told her. "There's more to the Code, but I can't recall it all now." He chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "Why don't you attend some classes? I'm sure the Masters won't mind an extra student. You could take some basic courses on meditation and history and Force sensitivity and control, same as all the first-year students do. I think it'd be useful."

Kyranon nodded. "It's a start. Thanks. What class should I take first?"

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. "Master Rialla's meditation class has a few extra slots open. It's one of the first things we learn here, how to clear our mind and focus. Better hurry though. The class starts in about five minutes."

"Where is it?"

"Two corridors down and to the right. The first blue door on the left next to the fountain." The young apprentice called after her. Kyranon waved her acknowledgement and began to run.

She arrived at the meditation room just as Master Rialla entered. Rialla was a small, bird-like woman with curly brown hair and bright brown eyes. She reminded Kyra of a song-bird, she could not look less like a warrior. Still Kyra knew appearances could be deceiving, and all the Jedi were well trained in self-defense.

Master Rialla greeted her with a warm smile. "Welcome, Kyranon. Please join our circle." She gestured to the woven mats spread in a circle on the floor.

Kyra chose a seat next to a young novice in a brown robe. To her surprise, she recognized the girl as the same one who had met her at the Temple doors on her first day. "Seera, isn't it?"

"Hello. Kyra, right?" Seera grinned. "You should have told me you were Master Qui-Gon's daughter. Then I would have admitted you right away."

"Well, I wasn't sure if it would make a difference. Besides, he didn't know I was his daughter until that day. My mother never told him I'd been born."

Seera's eyes widened. "Oh! Forgive me for prying."

"It's all right. It was an honest question."

"Kyranon and Seera, if you are quite finished discussing relationships, I think we are ready to begin," Rialla told them.

Kyra and Seera both flushed at the gentle rebuke. "Yes, Master," they chorused.

Rialla smiled to show she took no offense at the lapse. "Now then. The purpose of meditation is twofold. First to clear your mind of distractions and second to focus your mind on touching the Force. Only when your mind is calm will you sense the Force clearly. Anger, doubt, fear, all these things cloud your mind, making it hard for you to touch the Force. Eventually you must learn to find that calmness within in a moment's notice, even when in battle. All this you will learn in time. But first, you will learn to breathe." The Jedi Master folded her hands in her lap. "Now close your eyes. Take three deep breaths. Good. Now let them out slowly. As you do so let your thoughts flow with them. You are calm, a leaf on a breeze, floating endlessly in a sea of light. Become one with the leaf, the light . . ."

The Master's voice was low and soothing, almost hypnotic. Kyra did as she instructed, finding it not unlike the exercises her swordmaster had taught to focus a warrior's mind so that the sword and you became one. She slipped easily into a first-level trance, letting the warm glow of the Force surround her. All was calm. Her mind was empty of all save the light. She breathed out steadily, seeking the deeper center of oneness she achieved only during the most grueling sword forms.

Without warning the light vanished.

Once again she found herself facing a shadowy figure covered head to foot in a black cape. A miasma of hate and blood surrounded him, reaching for her with eager tendrils to steal her awareness. She took a step back, bringing her lightsaber up in warning. The nightmare laughed, cold and hollow. "Don't think that will save you, little Jedi. A lightsaber is no match for the Dark Side. A fact which your father learned too late." The figure gestured, revealing the bloody form of Qui-Gon curled in a heap on the ground. She cried out in rage. "Surrender to me, little Jedi, and perhaps I will let you tend to what's left of him. He won't last too much longer without healing."

"Never!" the cry was a soundless howl of defiance and fury.

The dark figure brought up his own lightsaber and lunged at her. She parried, the two blades meeting with a sharp crack, as battle was joined at last. A battle she had no choice but to win.

Abruptly she was back in her own body, blinking at the bright light that hit her eyes. "Kyranon! Are you all right, child?" Rialla hovered over her, one hand touching her temple.

"I . . .yes, I think so," she stammered, and sat up. "It was a vision. The same one I've had before, only stronger." Kyra shivered, her mind replaying with terrible clarity the sight of the mortally wounded Qui-Gon crumpled in a corner.

Rialla looked grave. "You've had these visions before? When did they start? Do you remember what you saw?"

Kyranon nodded. "I wish I didn't," she whispered softly. Then she told the Jedi Master what she had seen.

"This is very unusual, for one not trained in the Force to have such clarity of Sight. And such a dark future! I must inform Master Yoda at once. Perhaps he can shed some light on this matter." She gave Kyra a motherly pat on the head. "Try not to worry, child. The future is never a constant. What you saw may never come to be."

_It won't if I have anything to say about it_, Kyranon thought firmly, but she did not say so aloud.

"Why don't you go and lie down for awhile?" Rialla suggested. "Using the Force like that is often very exhausting, especially for beginners."

Kyra merely nodded and climbed to her feet. She was not tired, only a little dizzy and queasy, but nothing to take to her bed for. Not that she would have been able to sleep in any case. A restless urgency filled her, making her temples throb with impatience. She longed to be doing something about this vision, but the Jedi counseled her to wait. Impatience had always been her biggest flaw. She decided to take a walk outside the temple, hoping to soothe her jangling nerves.

_Gods in a circle, but I hate these damn visions! Someone had better make up their mind about what to do about them, before I go stark raving mad. _

The brisk walk about the Temple gardens did little to alleviate the restlessness in her mind. Her stomach still churned with residual fear from the vision, and all of her lessons in control were not working. She sighed. Whenever she had felt like this at home, she had headed into the wild hills surrounding Hawk Haven. A walk there among the great silent trees and wildlife had always managed to bring peace to her mind and heart. But where could she find the equivalent of such a place on Coruscant?

Her path took her past the small hanger where the Temple speeders were kept. Qui-Gon had given her the key to his own speeder, saying she was free to use it whenever she liked. Perhaps she could find the high wild place she sought from the air. Decision made, Kyra hopped upon the vehicle and took off, gliding easily above the tall buildings.

Something was drawing her northward, toward a strip of emerald green land just beyond the main hub of the city. She paused for a moment, trying to analyze the impulse. Was it the Force? Or a trick of her mind? But the call grew more insistent, pulling her onward. She gave her vibroblade a gentle tap. She would seek out whatever it was, but she would do so with the caution that befitted an expert Starhawk officer.

She soared high into the sky until she had reached the emerald green strip of land. Flying lower she discovered it was a broad swath of forested area, untouched by human hands. Perhaps a preserve of some sort. Using the trees as cover, Kyra steered the speeder in a sharp turn and landed the bike in a small clearing. The overgrown shrubs and bushes would keep the vehicle hidden from prying eyes and bandits.

Tucking the key in her pocket, she started off through the trees, moving soundlessly, like a shadow in the night. Cautiously, she extended her senses outward, tapping into the Force as she did so. She sensed no danger, no trace of evil, only a sense of great urgency and need.

The call was coming from a group of tall oaks straight ahead. Hand closed over her blade, she walked forward.

High in the branches overhead perched a great white hawk, iridescent wings shimmering in the sunlight. It was a vorcel hawk. Kyra gasped. "Sirath?" she called softly in Salisharan.

_"No. That one has returned with his bondmate to the forest."_ Came the soft voice in her mind, like the musical chiming of bells. _"I am called Wraith, Kyranon Jinn. And I Choose you, wind-sister."_

The vorcel hawk stretched great wings to the sky and flew down to land on her shoulder in a thunder of wings. The great talons grasped her shirt lightly, but did not leave so much as a scratch on her flesh. Large eyes of a piercing azure tinged violet, the same shade as the sky on Salishar, met her own.

She nearly cried out in shock at the force of that gaze. The longing in those eyes was unmistakable. _Gods in a circle. He wants me. But I cannot. No matter how much I want to, I can't!_ She shut her eyes, ignoring the wild rush of longing that poured through her. "You can't Choose me," she sobbed raggedly. "I am _vrekarin_, outcast. No vorcel hawk can choose a kinless woman as his bondmate."

"_Ah, but I have. You are no more outcast than I. We do not agree with that decision. You are kin of the Jedi are you not? You are more than worthy to bond with me."_ Wraith declared.

"I am no longer a Starhawk. Or even a Jedi yet."

_"It matters not. I did not Choose a Starhawk or a Jedi. You are far more than either. You are a Windwalker."_ The hawk said fiercely. _"Mistress of wind and sky, my eyes are yours, my heart given into your keeping. May you soar with my wings where –ever the wind takes you. We are one."_

The ritual words of a hawk to his bondmate sizzled in the air. She met the raptor's brilliant eyes once more. The bond could not be ignored. She could not refuse this gift, the gift of a soul-companion, friend, and teacher, for all those things the vorcel hawk would be to her. "Yes. We are one, my mind and yours, for all of forever. I am your bondmate." Kyra cried aloud, as the hawk's mind merged seamlessly with her own, sharing his memories and feelings. The process was dizzying, as she saw the world through the eyes of the hawk, hunting, flying, soaring over a land green and gold, one with the Force and all living things.

Then she felt the hawk acquire her own memories, training with her swordmaster, riding with her mother, hunting the hills for rogue wildcats and boar. She shared her elation with Wraith of discovering the Force, and her crushing disappointment when her mother declared her outcast. She shared also her hopes of becoming a Jedi worthy of her father, himself a Jedi Master. She loved Qui-Gon and wanted to make him proud of her, as she had never managed to make her mother.

Suddenly she could see from her own eyes again. But deep inside of her she could feel the link between her and the great bird, like a cord of silver energy binding them together. She half feared this was a dream, that she would wake and find herself still in her bed, alone and filled with an unknown longing for something she could never have. But Wraith sent wordless assurance down the link that this was no dream. It was real. Kyranon laughed. Oh, the irony of it! That a vorcel hawk, symbol of the Starhawk ideal, had Chosen _her_, an outcast, dead to her kin, to be his bondmate.

She recalled Sirath's protest at her mother's decision. Was that how Wraith had known where to find her? For vorcel hawks were native only to Salishar. "Did Sirath send you to me?"

Wraith made a sound similar to a dry chuckle. _"He is highly regarded among us, but he did not send me. I followed the will of the Force. I would have come to you sooner, on Salishar, but you were not yet ready."_

"Not ready? What do you mean?"

_"You did not yet accept the fact that you could use the Force. You followed your mother's counsel and ignored your visions until they became too strong. Only when you decided to travel to the Temple did you at last accept what you are."_

"How did you get here?"

__

"On a transport, of course. Even I cannot fly in outer space."

Wraith told her, amused by her question_. "I arrived here soon after the Commander."_ He clicked his beak in disapproval. _"Sirath and I do not agree with what she has done. We discussed it a long time, he and I, but in truth there is little we can do right now to change her mind. But Sirath has said he will try his best to make her see reason."_ Wraith gave a soft cry of disbelief.

_"A hard task, that one. Still, he is her bondmate."_

"It doesn't matter." Kyra told him. "It is done. We can't change the past, only accept it."

_"That's Jedi wisdom speaking,"_ Wraith observed. _"Yet in this case, I think otherwise."_

The girl shrugged. "You don't know my mother. A dozen Siraths couldn't make her change her mind once she's set on something." She decided to change the subject. "What's a Windwalker? You called me that, but I've never heard of it before."

_"A Windwalker is one who can command the winds, through the Force, to do her bidding. She is given dominion over flight and the lesser creatures of the air. A Windwalker can see the future in dreams and can even learn to spirit walk from one place to another if there is need. Traditionally Windwalkers were powerful warriors, defenders of the weak, but also powerful healers of both body and spirit. You are the first Windwalker to be born in over a thousand years. Once there were more, but they are now gone. I have waited a long time for you, Chosen."_

"As I have for you. How will I learn all of these things? Healing and calling winds, and all the rest of it? It sounds impossible."

_"Not for you. You will see. I will teach you._" Wraith said gently. _"Shall we go home, Chosen? No doubt your father is looking for you."_

"Yes."

Kyranon mounted the speeder, set the throttle to full and took off. Wraith flew above her, iridescent wings glimmering in the sun. She entered the Temple, the vorcel hawk perched on her shoulder. All the students she passed in the hallway stared at her in awe. Vorcel hawks were rarely seen outside of Salishar, and never had a Jedi trainee been a hawk's bondmate.

Qui-Gon met her at the door to her quarters. "Greetings, Master of the Skies." He said formally in Salisharan to the hawk, and smiled at his daughter. "I see you've been busy."

**Well, how are you enjoying this so far? Reviews are greatly appreciated. Please note, there will be NO romance between Kyra & Obi Wan, they are simply good friends.**


	4. Chapter 4

Word soon spread around the Temple that Kyra was the Chosen of a vorcel hawk, and while it made her the object of much curiosity and envy among the students, it did not seem to have changed her status among the Jedi Council. Only Yoda offered her congratulations on her bonding. "A great honor it is, to be the Chosen of Wraith. Serve him wisely."

Kyra fully intended to do so, for the bond between Windwalker and hawk was nearly the same as the bond between Master and apprentice. Each was there to support and guide the other, save for the fact that the bond she shared with her Chosen was an empathic as well as a spiritual one, meaning that she could feel what her hawk felt, as well as using Wraith's eyes and senses to see what he saw. She continued to take classes along with the other Jedi trainees in the morning. The afternoon she devoted to sword practices and spending time with Wraith.

Each day she felt the bond between her and her hawk deepen. Wraith used their time alone to instruct her on her new abilities as a Windwalker, showing her how to ride the winds with her mind, using them to hear conversations miles away as if she were standing right next to those speaking. He taught her how to use the winds to help her fly, making them lift her up and carry her like a feather through the air. It was a purer, stronger form of the Force-guided levitation the Masters practiced. She also learned the more deadly aspects of her power, how to summon hurricanes and tornadoes, blistering sandstorms, and frigid arctic gales. She also discovered that she could, with much concentration, turn the air around herself or another solid, forming a shield.

Though her powers seemed like magic to the uninitiated, Wraith assured her that they, too, were Force-created, similar to a Jedi's, though for her using the Force was like using a sword, she never had to remember how to touch it, only how to let it go. The one thing Wraith did not teach her was how to spirit walk. _"That is among the most dangerous things I will teach you._" He told her. _"It requires the most unshakable control, the deepest commitment. It is not to be used lightly. You must wait until you are stronger in your abilities before I will teach you."_

"Thanks, but I'd rather wait. My head has enough to absorb as it is without shoving anything new at me," his Chosen groaned. "I've had more lessons this past week on more different subjects than I had in two years on Salishar."

_"There is no hurry. We have time."_

"Good. Wraith, I was wondering, when you first came to me, you said that once there were more Windwalkers. What happened to them?" she leaned back against the trunk of a tree. They generally had their lessons outside in the forest, for both she and Wraith preferred being outdoors, in the wild.

_"It is a long story, one that I will not tell in detail now."_ Wraith replied. _"Suffice it to say that one by one they were destroyed by their enemies, the Sith Lords, the Dark Jedi. The Windwalkers were betrayed by one of their own, a promising apprentice named Thalnir, who was hungry for power and glory. The life of a Windwalker is often hard, and thankless, and lonely. Thalnir sought a quicker way, but in the end he found only darkness. The vorcel hawk who was to have been his bondmate killed him in the end, but not before he had betrayed his oath and given the Sith the means to destroy his people."_

"How? If the Windwalkers were so powerful, how could the Sith kill them so easily?"

_"It was not easy. It took the Sith many years to do so. But, as you know, even the most powerful warrior has a weakness. In our case, our greatest strength is also our greatest weakness. Do you know what I speak of, Chosen?"_

Mystified, Kyra shook her head. "The Force? It can be an ally for either dark or light."

_"True, but I am speaking of something more profound. It is the bond between Windwalker and hawk. Through it you gain the strength of two, mind and heart, who work as one. But kill a vorcel hawk, and you kill his bondmate. Death for one will mean death for the other, without exception. That is the price of the bond. Once the Sith learned this, they made a campaign of hunting down my kind, slaughtering all they could find. We fled to the remotest wilderness and managed to evade them. The Windwalkers fought, but there were never many of them, and the Sith knew their weakness. In the end, we fell, but we took the Sith with us."_ Wraith declared fiercely, shrieking a battle cry.

_"In time even the Jedi, whom we were sworn to protect, forgot about us, except in legends. Just as they forgot about the Sith. But now the Sith have returned, like a dark dream, to kill what remains of hope and light in the galaxy. The Jedi will fight, as always, but they cannot win. Unless a Windwalker fights beside them."_

"You mean, me?" Kyra whispered, stunned by Wraith's suggestion. "But I'm not ready to fight a Sith Lord! I'm not even a Jedi yet."

_"Fear not Chosen. You will be ready when it is time. You are one of the strongest Windwalkers I have ever known. The Jedi do not realize how lucky they are to have you as an ally. But someday they will, I promise."_

Kyra looked doubtful. "I don't see how. The Council doesn't even know if they should let me be an apprentice. How am I supposed to convince them that I'm their protector?" It sounded ridiculous, even to her ears. The Jedi Masters would never put their trust in a fifteen-year-old girl, no matter how strong the Force was with her.

Wraith gazed at her serenely. _"You'll see. The Force will guide you."_

Two days later, Kyranon was walking in the market in downtown Coruscant, trying to find a birthday present for Seera. She and the novice had become good friends since their first meeting at the temple entrance. Kyra found Seera to be a bit shy, but other than that she possessed quick wits and a wry sense of humor. She was not as skilled at using a lightsaber, though she excelled at using the Force to heal. She alone of the students was not in awe of Kyra's abilities or of Wraith, whom she treated as another friend. The only other apprentice who did that was Obi-Wan, though at times he treated Wraith the same way he did Qui-Gon, as a respected elder. The hawk did not seem to mind, in fact he liked both young Jedi, and had said Kyra was a good judge of character to have such friends.

Kyra halted beside a vendor selling beautiful crystal amulets and wands. "Greetings, my lady!" the jeweler said. "These are Damarian song crystals. When touched, they play beautiful melodies. And these," he indicated a row of milky blue spheres, "are Rykalth sea gems. Very rare. They are said to channel the Force," the gem merchant confided in a low whisper. "But only a Jedi would know for sure."

"May I see one?"

The merchant removed one of the stones from his case. It was about the size of a small apple and colored a beautiful azure, swirled with green. It reminded her of the oceans on Salishar. Gently, she opened her mind to it, testing it with the Force. It suddenly seemed to glow and a soft hum emerged from it. It was definitely Force sensitive. And well worth the price the merchant asked.

"How much?" she asked.

The gem merchant looked at her shrewdly. Kyra was prepared to hear a figure that would probably strain what little credits she had left. Then the merchant shook his head and smiled. "For you, young Jedi, it is a gift."

"Oh, but sir, I couldn't . . ."

"Nonsense! The Jedi serve us well. All the merchants extend credit to the Temple." He waved away her protests. "Take it and be welcome."

"Thank you very much, sir."

"My name is Tavish."

"My friend will appreciate this very much, Tavish." Kyra smiled. "I'll be sure and tell the others to shop here if they wish to buy fine jewelry. How did you know I was a Jedi?"

"Why, by your sword, lass." Tavish laughed. "Only a Jedi carries such a weapon. And wears the tunic," he indicated her white apprentice shirt.

Taking the crystal from him, Kyra placed it carefully in her belt pouch. It resonated with the Force, and she suspected the crystal could be used to communicate or channel the Force somehow. She knew Seera would love it. It had been a long time since she'd had a friend to buy presents for.

Suddenly, a child's shrill cry rang in the air. She turned about. Across the street from the jeweler was a blind alley. A six-year-old girl dressed in a cast-off tunic clutched a loaf of bread to her chest. Her big brown eyes were wide with fear. Surrounding the small child were five big boys, around twelve or so, dressed in rich tunics and breeches such as only wealthy citizens wore. They were probably the sons of wealthy governors and senators. Obviously the little girl was not of their class, looking little better than a beggar.

A tall boy with raven hair grinned mockingly and grabbed the bread from the little girl's hands. "Thank you for the gift, little one!"

"Give that back! It's mine!" the girl cried, tears sparkling on her face.

Two other ragged waifs appeared from either side of the alley, behind some piled up boxes of junk. They came to stand beside the girl, arms crossed, scowling. They would have been more menacing had they been older. As it was, two seven-year-old boys wouldn't be much of a match for five twelve-year olds, especially not under-sized ones.

"Yeah, lordling, give it back!" one spat, flashing the dark-haired youth a rude gesture. "Mero needs it more'n you."

"It cost us th' last of our credits, too!" Mero's other companion added indignantly.

The tall youth smirked. "Why don't you run along home, gutter rats, before we give you a thrashing for stealing?"

"We didn't steal it!" Mero cried. "You did!"

Raven-hair laughed. "Taking something from a gutter rat isn't stealing. It's charity. From you to us. Right boys?"

The other four lordlings nodded, snickering.

One of the ragged boys clenched a fist. "Whyn't you buy your own? You've got more money than we do."

"Why should we spend our money when we can get it for free?" a blond boy with a senatorial badge on his tunic sneered.

People continued past the group, too busy with their own problems to bother about the fate of three street orphans and a gang of highborn bullies.

Kyranon's jaw clenched. It was a scene she'd witnessed before, in Newsea. Spoiled highborn brats with too much time on their hands went looking for ways to amuse themselves, generally at the expense of those smaller and weaker than they, knowing their rank and position protected them from retaliation.

Only on Salishar, the Starhawks had seen to it that all citizens were given equal treatment under the law. As a Starhawk officer she had apprehended and sentenced many such miscreants.

She started forward, intending to put a stop to their cruel prank. Then she remembered. This wasn't Salishar and she was no longer a Starhawk. She was not responsible for bringing justice to the people of Coruscant. Still, it was not in her nature to sit back and watch a smaller creature being picked on by a stronger one. _Just because I no longer wear the uniform, doesn't mean I don't believe in justice. Starhawk or not, I won't stand by and watch a bunch of spoiled brats torment helpless children._

_"Wraith!"_ she called soundlessly to the hawk circling above her. _"Those punks need a lesson in manners. Shall we give them one, Chosen?"_ the hawk replied. He dove from the sky in a blur of white feathers, talons outstretched, like a shaft of lightning.

"With pleasure, Windwalker!"

Before Raven-hair could even cry out, Wraith had snatched the bread from his hand. "What the—?"

Wraith spiraled up, dropping the bread into Kyra's outstretched hands. "Nice move, my friend."

The five troublemakers whirled to face her. "Hey! That bird of yours stole our lunch!" cried the blond boy.

Kyranon lifted an eyebrow. "Stealing from thieves isn't stealing. It's justice." She tossed the loaf over the heads of the youths. The ragged child in the green tunic caught it deftly. He flashed her a wry grin before taking his prize and disappearing behind the boxes. The other two orphans did likewise.

Raven-hair advanced on Kyra with a growl. "Who the devil d'you think you are, interfering in our sport?"

"Who do you think _you _are, that you feel you can torment little children and get away with it?" Kyra inquired, her voice edged in steel.

The boy drew himself up to his full height. He was a good head taller than she. "I am Rilyan, son of Tyldan, Senator of Antares. I don't have to answer to the likes of you, outlander!"

"I would think a Senator's son would have better things to do than stealing bread from starving children." The Windwalker pointed out.

"What's it to you, anyway?" another demanded, coming to stand by Rilyan. He wore a gold tunic over green breeches.

"She talks like one of those holier-than-thou Jedi Knights," spat a long-haired youth.

"An apprentice, no doubt. See her lightsaber?" observed a red-haired boy, indicating her belt.

"Ooo, now I'm real scared!" Raven-hair laughed, pretending to shiver in fear.

"We don't need no Jedi sticking her nose in our business," shouted a small wiry boy.

"Better go back to your Temple and pray for wisdom, little Jedi!" Rilyan ordered. "Before we show you what we do to girls who stick their noses in the affairs of their betters." He clenched his fists threateningly.

Kyra gave him a cold smile. Her blue eyes grew hard as ice. "Perhaps _you_ should pray for wisdom. The wisdom to return home before you get seriously hurt."

Rilyan's eyes blazed. "Jedi or no, that's going to cost you." He lunged for her, swinging his arms like pistons, intending to squash her like a fly.

His fist struck empty air. Kyranon was no longer there. Moving with the swiftness of a hunting cat, she had stepped aside and spun. She lashed out with her right foot in a swivel kick that cut the boy's legs out from under him, dumping him on his backside in the middle of a mud puddle.

Sticky brown mud spattered all over, clinging to the fine velvet tunic and pants like metal to a magnet, turning the arrogant young lordling into something resembling a mudball. Someone snickered loudly.

Face bright with rage, Rilyan climbed to his feet. He wiped the mud from his face. "Don't just stand there!" he howled, glowing with humiliation. "Get her!"

The others hesitated. "But Rilyan . . .we can't attack a Jedi." Red-hair objected. "She can use the Force."

"I don't care if she's Queen of the galaxy!" Rilyan screamed. "Are you going to let her treat a Senator's son like this? We're five to her one. She can't win even with the Force."

They glanced at her then at each other. They were taller and stronger than she was. She was one against many. It would be easy to take her. Smiling in pleasure, they advanced on her.

Had she been anyone other than who she was, the odds would have been impossible. But she was a Starhawk, trained for war since she could walk. Five grown men would have been a threat to her. Five half-grown boys were little more than a warm-up exercise. She would not even need her vibroblade.

The Force flowed through her, lending her the extra speed she needed to dodge the first one's punch and slam the red-head in the stomach with a well-timed right cross. He doubled over, face green.

Long-hair and Gold Tunic attempted to grab her arms and pin her down. But she slipped from their grasp with a lithe twist. Using his own momentum against him, she caught Gold Tunic by the arm and threw him across her shoulder. He landed with a thud on the ground, stunned.

She turned to face her other attacker.

Wraith shrieked a battlecry and dove for Rilyan, who was attempting to sneak up from behind. The vorcel-hawk hit the youth a stunning blow on the shoulder with closed talons. _"Attacking from behind is the way of a coward!"_

"Cursed hawk!" Rilyan screamed, clutching his injured shoulder.

From the force of the blow, Kyra knew his shoulder would be numb and sore for days. But Wraith had pulled his blow, striking to bruise, not cripple.

The boy she had thrown regained his feet, blood oozing from a cut lip, and started toward her, followed by the small youth.

Kyra eyed them, seeing in an instant that they would try and come at her from both sides, seeking to overwhelm her. She spun, lunging toward the smaller boy. Then she twisted in mid-air in a maneuver almost too quick to follow. Her fist slammed Gold Tunic in the jaw, knocking him to the ground again.

Small One managed to grab hold of her braid and yanked, bringing tears to her eyes. But Kyra ignored the pain, spinning and bringing up a knee that hit the boy in the nose. He fell back with a shriek, holding his nose.

She turned to face Blond-hair, but he held up his hands in surrender. The Windwalker eyed the battered youths sternly. None of them met her gaze. The entire fight had taken just over seven minutes. Kyra walked over to Rilyan, who was still cradling his bruised shoulder. He glared at her sullenly.

"Next time follow your friend's advice," she hissed, lifting him up by his tunic. "And pick your fights more wisely. Next time I won't be as forgiving." She released him and addressed the rest of them. "Go home, and find something meaningful to do with yourselves."

They scattered like mice before a pouncing cat, though Rilyan paused to call over his shoulder. "This isn't finished yet, apprentice! You'll pay for this outrage."

She ignored the threat. It was nothing but an empty boast, an attempt to salve his battered pride. The three children emerged from their hiding place behind the boxes, grins of delight and awe on their faces.

"Thank you, Lady Jedi," the little girl said shyly.

"You're welcome, child," Kyra knelt down and put her hands on the thin shoulders. "What's your name?"

"Mero," she answered. "That's Snip and Rafe." She indicated her friends, who blushed and looked at the ground, embarrassed at being singled out.

"We ain't never been helped by no Jedi before," Snip admitted.

"I'm not a Jedi, not yet." Kyra clarified, not wanting to spread false rumors. "I'm a Windwalker. My name is Kyra." She held up an arm. Wraith landed on her wrist at her silent call. "This is Wraith, my bondmate."

Gasps of shock greeted the vorcel hawk's arrival.

"He's beautiful!" Mero whispered. She reached out a hand to stroke the hawk's wing, then froze. "May I touch him?"

_"Of course, child."_ Wraith said gently, speaking so that all could hear him. _"I won't bite."_

"You talk!" Rafe exclaimed.

_"I do. I am a vorcel hawk."_ Wraith told them, preening slightly.

Slowly Mero reached out, brushed the silky feathers of Wraith's chest with her fingers. The look of utter joy on her face nearly made tears come to the Windwalker's eyes.

"Thank you, Wraith, for getting back our bread. That's the only thing we have for breakfast."

_"I know."_ The hawk trilled, violet eyes gleaming. _"Enjoy it, children. And tell those brats that if they bother you again my Chosen and I will hunt them down like the spineless vermin they are and make what we did today seem like a practice session."_

"Yes, sir!" the three chorused. Then they melted back into the shadows.

Kyra smiled. "Shall we go home, Wraith?"

The hawk soared into the sky. _Well done, Chosen. That was fun._

The Windwalker grinned. "I wonder if the Jedi would see it that way?" Probably not. But she could not have done less and still considered herself honorable. Besides, she had not truly hurt the boys, only bruised their pride and hopefully, taught them a lesson in respect.

"Do you ever miss your home?" Seera asked, idly nibbling a juma fruit as she leaned against a sculpted tree in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. She wore the blue-green crystal about her neck proudly, profoundly touched that Kyra had given her such a special gift.

"Sometimes," the Windwalker answered quietly. "Sometimes I wake up at dawn and look out at the garden and I miss the way the sun rose over the hills on Salishar. The sky would start to glow like an azure jewel and trail streamers of mist, then the sun would come up like a blazing eye and turn the hills all golden-emerald. It was beautiful." Kyra's eyes were far away, remembering thousands of mornings when she had awoke before dawn just to see the sunrise. No matter how many times she'd seen it, she had never tired of it. Now she would never see it again. Ignoring the sudden ache in her heart, she continued. "The hills are wild and untouched, you can wander for days in them and not see another person, only animals. The vorcel hawks make their home there." She smiled up at Wraith, perched near the top of a flowering rhododendron.

"It sounds so wonderful," Seera said, her dark eyes bright with longing. "I wish I could see it. I've never been anywhere but here. I don't even remember what planet I grew up on, I was so little when I came here."

_Sometimes it's better not to remember. Then you can't miss it._ Kyra thought but did not say aloud. "Salishar is beautiful, but it can be harsh. Hawk Haven, where I grew up, was surrounded by the Vale of Mist—those hills I just told you about. At the end of basic training, a Starhawk cadet has to pass a survival test. Your instructors fly you to some remote area of the Vale, far away from any civilization and leave you there a week with nothing except the clothes on your back, a waterskin, and pocket laser-knife. You have to provide your own food, shelter, water, everything. It's very harsh, and they do it during the rainy season, which makes it twice as hard to find game or a dry place to sleep. And sometimes there are flash floods. But it teaches you to live with the land, become a part of it, respect it like nothing else. If you come back from the wilds—some don't—then you've learned to live with the land. That's why you'll never see a Starhawk advocate destruction of land or animals for money. Not ever."

Seera nodded. They sat in silence, contemplating the misty green hills. Kyra felt a hard knot form just beneath her heart. She would never see Salishar again. Even if she wanted to, she could never go back. None of the Starhawks would welcome a _vrekarin_ among them. She would taint their honor. And to see the Vale of Mist again and know she would never belong as she once had would break her heart. Silently, she did now what she had been unable to do then: she bid her home goodbye. A single tear slid down her cheek. _The Jedi are your home now. They live everywhere._ Yet she knew a small corner of her heart would always remember Salishar and long to return.

Seera turned to her, about to speak, but just then Obi-Wan rushed into the room. "Kyra, you have a visitor," he told her, jerking a thumb back the way he'd come. "I think it's that girl you told us about, the one you and Wraith rescued from that gang of bullies."

"Mero?" Kyra was on her feet in an instant. "Where?"

Obi-Wan led her to the receiving room where visitors to the Temple who weren't daughters of Jedi Masters were shown. Seera followed, curious about the child. Kyra had told them of the poor orphan and her defense of them from the highborn troublemakers that prowled the city. Mero sat on a chair, hands folded in her lap, eyes wide, as if fearing to breathe.

"Mero, what's the matter?" Kyra asked, coming to stand beside the small child.

Mero's eyes grew moist with relief. "Windwalker!" she half-sobbed and hurtled herself off the chair and into Kyra's arms. "You've got to help us! Snip and Rafe are in terrible trouble!"


	5. Chapter 5

﻿Kyra held the frightened child close, patting her back soothingly. She could feel Mero's heart beating like a wild thing's. "Of course I'll help. Tell me what happened." Mero drew back, visibly composing herself. Kyra admired the child's courage. She was only six, yet she acted much older than her years, probably because of the harsh life she was forced to lead. Street orphans grew up fast or not at all.

"It was Rilyan and his bunch of snots again. We were just walking along, minding our own business, when they showed up. At first we almost ran, but then I 'membered what you said, you an' the hawk. And I told them what you said—how they couldn't hurt us no more since you'd protect us. It made that Rilyan really mad. And some of the others got really scared and said they wouldn't risk fightin' you a second time. Two of 'em left right there. But Rilyan just laughed and said he'd show us, we'd not forget our place again." Mero took a deep breath. "Then he left, an' we thought we'd seen the last of 'em. We decided to go home. But he came after us, an' he brought his brother Tarvon along an' some of his friends. There were too many of them—at least eight, maybe ten. They caught Rafe and they started hitting him, not just once, but really hitting him. They said they'd break his arms and legs if he didn't kneel and call them Master." Tears ran down Mero's face. "But Rafe wouldn't. He spat in their face and said the Windwalker would save him. Tarvon hurt him, lady, hurt him bad. That's when I ran to get you. Please hurry! They'll kill him!"

Kyra's blue eyes glowed with a terrible light. Obi-Wan stared at her as if at a stranger. He'd never seen that particular expression on her face before. The face of a Starhawk committed to battle, to killing. She spoke a word that would have earned her a lecture from Qui-Gon had he been there to hear it. "I guess they didn't believe me. Now they learn otherwise." She held out a wrist. "Wraith!"

The vorcel hawk glided from the tree. "Be wary, Chosen. There are more this time." His gem-like eyes were fierce. "Let us go!"

Obi-Wan followed the determined young woman. "I'm coming," he told her.

She halted. "Obi-Wan, it's not your fight. It's mine. You might get in trouble."

He shook his head, wearing that stubborn grin she knew so well. "You're my friend, and friends help each other."

Seera nodded. "Jedi stick together." She cut off Kyra's protest. "You might need me. Not to fight. To heal."

Mero turned and beckoned frantically. "Hurry!"

"Enough debate. Let's move!" Kyra ordered. Suddenly she was no longer a Jedi trainee. She was a Starhawk officer about to apprehend a criminal. She followed Mero at a dead run, Wraith soaring like a silent specter overhead.

They reached the mouth of the alley. A whimpering wail could be heard over the rough-edged laughter and comments. Mero went white. Kyra put a hand on her arm. "Stay out of this. Go hide until it's over. Okay?" The child nodded and vanished into the streets.

Kyra's hand fell to her vibroblade, but did not remove the weapon. She would not need it. She knew better than to draw a weapon unless she meant to use it to kill. She had other things in mind than killing. Worse things. Obi-Wan and Seera flanked her, faces grim. Kyra advanced, tapped the first boy she saw on the shoulder. He turned around. Before he could speak, she slammed him in the face. He fell to the pavement without a sound.

The Windwalker placed her hands on her hips. "I guess you didn't get the message, Rilyan." She snapped, her voice colder than the arctic wind on Salishar. "You should have learned by now I mean what I say."

All heads snapped toward her. An older youth, around Kyra's age, who resembled his younger sibling, came forward. "This doesn't concern you, Jedi. Be off before you get the same."

"Arrogance runs in the family I see." Kyra smiled at him, the smile of a Starhawk about to take strips out of someone's hide. "As does stupidity. Let the boy go and walk away."

"Or what?" Tarvon sneered. "You can't take us all, Jedi girl. Even with your friends."

Kyranon didn't bother to reply. Wraith struck like a thunderbolt, slamming into one of the boys flanking Tarvon. He crumpled with a cry. The vorcel-hawk was not pulling his blows this time. These boys were old enough to know the consequences of their actions.

"Spawn of witches!" Tarvon snarled and lunged for her, a laser knife in one fist.

Kyra was ready. She moved to the side, fading away like a ghost. Tarvon was quick, but no match for one who was Starhawk trained. Kyra used a foot to slam him in the side. The breath wooshed out of him with a gasp and he slumped to the ground. She danced back out reach. Her eyes glowed like hot coals.

Tarvon spat and came up, thrusting his knife. Kyra avoided his move. Clearly he'd had some weapons training. But not enough. Her hand cracked down on his wrist with a snap. "Don't point a weapon, boy, unless you can use it." She told him calmly, over his wails. He cradled his broken wrist and wept.

Another boy launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground. She went limp, absorbing most of the impact on her shoulders.

He grinned at her nastily and drew back a fist. In doing so he left her room to maneuver. She brought her knees up, her feet meeting in his stomach, then kicked out and over. His punch glanced off her head. He flew over her head to crash against a pile of junk.

Kyra flipped back to her feet, scanning the area. Obi-Wan was pummeling a boy off to one side. Seera had slipped around the battle and knelt by the side of the battered Rafe. Kyra felt the Force glow about the young healer's hands. Wraith scratched the face of another youth. That left three for her, including Rilyan.

She did not bother waiting for them to make the first move. She was among them like the wind of death, all grace and cold fury. She danced sword forms without a sword, using her hands and feet in place of blades. Size and strength mattered not against her skill. They parted like sheaves of wheat before a scythe. Battered and bloody they scattered and fled.

A movement caught her eye. One of the older youths that Wraith had hit had gotten to his feet. In his hands was a small bowcaster, the kind used to hunt small game. He raised it and aimed it at Wraith.

"Wraith! Look out!" she called soundlessly. Fury like she'd never known filled her. With a thought she summoned the wind. It came with a howl of thwarted vengeance. It swirled about the boy like a gale, seizing the bowcaster and crushing it into pieces. Pinned against the wall by the force of the gale, the youth went white.

Kyranon opened her hand, releasing the wind. Her eyes met those of the weaponless youth. "Don't ever threaten my hawk again."

He gulped and nodded. "No, lady," Then he ran.

She turned to face her other opponents. Only three boys remained. One of those was Tarvon, still moaning and holding his wrist. He stared at her with a mixture of fear and hate. "Who are you?"

"I am the Windwalker. These children are under my protection. I warned you once. This is the second time. Don't make there be a third."

"Why do you care what happens to a bunch of beggar brats?"

"Because they deserve the same rights as you. The right to live without fear. Rank and wealth don't give you a monopoly on comfort. Or a right to brutalize those weaker than yourself. I could bring you before a magistrate. Then all would know the shame of your fine family. I chose to settle it in private. I can always change my mind."

Tarvon rose to his feet. "My father will hear of this, Jedi witch! He'll make you pay for hurting the sons of a Senator!" Clutching his wrist, he hobbled away.

Obi-Wan looked troubled. "Do you think he meant it? The Jedi won't be pleased with this."

Kyra shrugged. "I did what I felt was right. Nothing else would have convinced them to leave those poor children alone." Any Starhawk would have done the same.

Seera rose from her place beside Rafe. "Some of those injuries were serious!" she said, her brown eyes flashing. "He had a punctured lung and a broken arm. This was no childish prank. They meant killing." Her mouth firmed. "The Jedi Masters should know of this."

Obi-Wan laughed humorlessly. "Don't worry. They will. They probably know already."

Kyra knelt by Rafe. "Can you walk?"

The boy smiled. "Sure. Thanks for coming, Windwalker. We owe you."

"No, Rafe. That's my job, to protect those who can't protect themselves."

"It don't matter. We still owe you. If ever you need anything . . .me, Mero, and Snip'll be there." Flashing her a crooked smile, the boy sprang to his feet and ran off.

Kyra stood, dusting her hands on her tunic. Obi-Wan glanced around. The street was empty. Only then did he realize Kyra had defeated four opponents without even drawing her weapon.

Obi-Wan was right. They did not have long to wait. Senator Tyldon arrived within the hour, Tarvon and Rilyan in tow. Tarvon sported a plasti-cast about his wrist. Rilyan had a bruise high on one cheekbone. The Senator was a tall, lean man dressed in the black and gold robes of his office. His dark eyes blazed with suppressed fury. His sons wore looks of smug satisfaction. The Senator did not bother with pleasantries. "I demand reparation for my sons' injuries," he told Qui-Gon heatedly. "One of your Jedi students attacked my boys while they were shopping, unprovoked. I demand justice."

Qui-Gon merely nodded. "Come. We will discuss the matter. First we will hear both sides of the story." He beckoned them into a side room. Then he called Kyranon on his comlink.

His daughter arrived with Wraith on her shoulder, accompanied by Obi-Wan and Seera. "This doesn't concern you two," Qui-Gon said mildly to the other apprentices.

"Yes, it does, Master," Obi-Wan said respectfully. "We were there. I helped her."

"So did I." Seera said. "I healed the child those boys tormented."

Qui-Gon sighed. "Come with me, please." He led the way to the room where the Senator and his sons waited.

Qui-Gon seated the three apprentices across from their accusers, forcing both parties to look at each other while they stated their grievances. He remained impassive, an impartial judge, seated to one side. "Senator, you may begin," the Jedi gestured to the older man.

"As I said before, these students of yours—devils more like it—attacked my sons. They broke my eldest's wrist when he tried to run from them and punched the younger one in the face. What are you going to do about it?"

Qui-Gon turned to the two boys. "Is this true?" he demanded.

Both boys fidgeted uneasily under the Jedi Master's stern gaze. At last Tarvon cried, "Yes, it's true! That blond witch broke my wrist!"

"And she beat me up before, too!" Rilyan cried, picking up from his brother's lead. "This wasn't the first time. We didn't start it."

"Jedi trainees don't attack without provocation," Qui-Gon said evenly. "Perhaps there is more to your story, Rilyan?"

The boy flushed and looked away. "It was just some gutter rats. They stole bread from me. I had a right to teach them a lesson!"

The Senator nodded.

Kyra opened her mouth to reply, eyes flashing.

Qui-Gon turned to her. "Kyranon, tell me your reason for attacking these boys."

"Part of what they say is true. I did hurt them. But only after they tormented a little girl and her friends. The bread belonged to her. Rilyan and his friends took it from her. She asked for it back but they said stealing from gutter rats wasn't stealing, but charity. I gave the bread back to the children, Mero, Rafe, and Snip. I asked Rilyan why he and his friends needed to steal bread from poor children. They said because they could. Then they attacked me." She looked directly at Rilyan as she spoke.

He glared at her. "That's a lie!"

Qui-Gon frowned. "It is not your turn to speak. You will get a chance to defend yourself." He turned back to Kyranon, who quickly told him the rest of it.

Then he asked Obi-Wan and Seera what had happened. They told him much the same. The Jedi Master turned back to the Senator and his family. "Do you condone harming a child, Senator Tyldon?"

"No, Jedi. Of course not!" the Senator answered, meeting the Jedi's eyes steadily.

"So then you would not condone your sons' behavior if they did what these students claim."

"_If_ they did as these say, no. But you have only the word of these children. Who's to say they aren't lying to protect themselves?"

Kyra flushed at the implication. "I'm a Starhawk, sir! And we don't lie, not even to get out of a punishment. Had your sons walked away from Mero, I would have let them alone. But they didn't and I was forced to act. They brought this upon themselves. I will let Master Qui-Gon Truth Read me if I must."

"So will I." Obi-Wan agreed. Seera also nodded.

Qui-Gon looked at the Senator. "If you insist, I will do so. To your sons as well. Do you agree?"

Tyldon turned to his sons. Both remained silent. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"I . . ." Rilyan stammered.

"Why should _we_ submit to a Truth Test?" Tarvon asked sullenly. "They asked for it."

"Only those who are guilty fear the truth," Qui-Gon stated. "I will not force a Truth Test on anyone." His implication was clear.

Senator Tyldon looked as if he were about to have a heart attack. "It's true, then. What they said. My sons behave no better than common thugs." He rose, bowed to the Jedi. "I am deeply ashamed of my sons. Please accept my deepest apologies for burdening you with this matter."

"But Father—!" began Tarvan.

"They're lying!" Rilyan screamed.

His father swung on him. "Keep silent, you young fool! You've humiliated me enough for one day. Thank you, Master, for clearing up this matter. I assure you they will be punished."

Qui-Gon bowed. "My own students are not without blame, Senator. It would seem they too, need a lesson in restraint and calm." He fixed the students with a stern look of disapproval. "Good day, Senator. May the Force be with you."

Tyldon nodded, face crimson. Then he herded his disobedient children before him and left.

The Jedi Master turned to face his daughter and her friends. "While you may have been right in defending those who cannot protect themselves, you were wrong in not exercising more restraint in doing so. A Jedi seeks a peaceful solution before war. We are not Starhawks." That last rebuke was directed at Kyra.

"Yes, sir." She muttered, bowing her head.

"I suggest you all take time and think about one hundred ways in which you could have solved this problem without resorting to violence." Qui-Gon declared softly. "In writing."

Kyranon groaned. "One hundred?"

Qui-Gon frowned. "If you know of more than one hundred, Kyranon, you may write one-hundred-and-fifty reasons."

"No, Master." Kyra bent her head to her work. She almost wished she were back scrubbing pots. At least it would give her an outlet for her frustration.

"I didn't think so." Qui-Gon hid a smile. _She is very much like I was at her age. Too much, I think._

* * *

There are some moments that remain locked in one's memory forever, never to be forgotten. Such a moment was the day Kyra received her first vibroblade from Commander Ilaren, for that was the day she became a full fledged Starhawk, no longer a child or a cadet, but an adult warrior. She could recall every detail of that moment without having to think twice about it. It hung side by side with the terrible moment when her mother named her vrekarin, outcast from her House and Name. The nightmare of the hooded figure was like that, a premonition of doom that haunted her asleep and awake

As she grew more skilled in the Force, her visions began coming more frequently, as if by learning to focus her skills she became more attuned to the fabric of time and what would be. She never deliberately sought to see the future, the visions came of their own accord, mostly in dreams. The vision that came most frequently was of the dark man in the hood, the one who threatened her life and that of her father. This vision terrified her, for she sensed somehow that the events leading to that fateful hour were drawing closer, and she watched all unheeding as they occurred.

When she had first told Yoda of the nightmare, he had looked concerned, but she did not think he believed her dream a true one. Even Master Rialla would say only, "Even a Jedi cannot be certain of the future. Sometimes what will be, must be." Kyra refused to accept that. If she followed that philosophy she had as good as thrust her own blade through Qui-Gon's heart. The Starhawks believed that one made one's own destiny, subject only occasionally to the will of the gods. _I was given the Sight for a purpose. To warn and guard those I care about. But how can I protect them if I don't know when this event will occur?_

Even Wraith was unable to help her with that, though he did say that the more frequent the vision the closer the event was. She had been having the nightmare almost every night, which meant the time was very close. Worse still, Qui-Gon had left the Temple on some secret assignment two weeks before, telling no one of his mission, not even Obi-Wan. The apprentice had told her he thought it might have something to do with Xanatos, a former Jedi student, now turned to the Dark Side.

Xanatos, Obi-Wan said, had been Qui-Gon's first apprentice. He had been skilled in all the Jedi arts and had seemed as if he would make an excellent Jedi. Qui-Gon had loved and trusted him like a son. But Xanatos was proud and arrogant, longing for power and prestige. He hid this longing from his Master, but Yoda noticed something was not right. He sent the two to Telos, Xanatos's home planet, for a last mission. Xanatos was the son of the governor, born to wealth and privilege. His father offered him a place by his side and Xanatos agreed, betraying his oath as a Jedi and Qui-Gon's trust. He became as corrupt as his father, in the end Qui-Gon fought him, but spared his life in the hope that he might learn the error of his ways. Xanatos did not, turning instead to the Dark Side, becoming a Sith Lord. Since then Xanatos had clashed with the Jedi, Qui-Gon in particular, many times, but he always managed to get away. Obi-Wan believed that his Master felt responsible for the evil Xanatos had done, because he had not seen what the young man was capable of, how pride and hate had twisted him. The young Jedi felt that Qui-Gon had left to find Xanatos and end the conflict, and the threat to the Jedi Knights, forever. Had it been anything else, Obi-Wan felt sure he would have accompanied his Master. But Xanatos was personal, and Qui- Gon did not want his apprentice to fall prey to the Sith Lord's evil.

Kyra felt certain her friend was right. Otherwise her father would have taken the time to say goodbye to her, instead of disappearing into the night like a spirit. She had to learn of his departure from Yoda, though the green Master would not tell her where he had gone. "Qui-Gon's wish, it was, that this mission remain secret." The young apprentice had no idea how long her father would be gone, and the time was drawing near when she must go before the Council again and receive their judgement regarding her status as a Jedi trainee. She did not want to face that ordeal without her father present. But what if the Jedi Master did not return in time? Worse, what if this Xanatos person killed Qui-Gon? That of course was her deepest fear, the terror that made all of her previous insecurities pale in comparison. For while she stayed in the Temple, learning of meditation and healing and teaching a handful of Jedi trainees Starhawk sword forms, her father was out there somewhere battling a Sith Lord. And while she knew her father was a powerful warrior, strong in the Force, she also knew that his compassion made him vulnerable. For Obi Wan had told her that this apprentice, Xanatos, had been very close to his teacher, almost like a son. And now he was sworn to Darkness. And able to use the compassion Qui-Gon had once felt for him against his former master. Qui-Gon had fought the Sith before, and always Xanatos had escaped in the end. But how much of that was Xanatos's cleverness and how much Qui-Gon's own reluctance to destroy his former student? _Oh, Father, beware your heart. It can trap you into making fatal mistakes. He is no longer your friend, perhaps he never was. Show him no mercy, for none will be shown you._ Kyra thought silently.

She wished she knew where Qui-Gon had gone, wished there was some way that she might discover his whereabouts. She knew Yoda would not tell her, and neither would any of the other Masters, assuming they knew. She knew that his mission might not even have been recorded in the archives, such secret ones usually were not until they were completed. So there was no point in looking in the computer databases. _Perhaps I can contact him through the Force. Sometimes when I'm speaking to someone mind-to-mind, I get a sense of where they are, a picture of their surroundings. If I can expand that awareness, perhaps I can figure out where he is._ The Windwalker thought. _And then what? _A small part of her demanded. _Are you going to go flying to his rescue as if he were a prisoner trapped in a tower in a fairytale? He'd hardly appreciate the fact that his own daughter felt he needed protection from a Sith Lord. _And yet that might be exactly what he needed. The Jedi Master was growing old, his movements were not always so sure and sharp as they had been when he was younger. Kyra thanked all the gods that her father could not read her mind at this moment, he would have been greatly offended by the turn her thoughts were taking. _And if he were a Starhawk, he'd invite me into the circle for my insolence. Being Qui-Gon, however, he'd only look at me with that sharp glance of disapproval, and read me some lecture about how age does not always equal weakness. And make me feel so guilty that I'd wish he invited me into the circle instead. _But what if she was right, and he did need help? No one would know until it was too late. Kyra recalled her vision, the dark specter, hovering over the body of her father. What if the dark man in the vision had been this Xanatos? What if the vision came true because of her failure to act?


	6. Chapter 6

_I could chew on this all day, like a dog with a bone, and still it would come back to one thing. If he is in trouble, dare I go and rescue him?_ It seemed like a simple question to answer. Once she would not even have had to think about it. Her answer would have been a firm yes. But now . . .if she left Coruscant, would the Jedi regard her decision as wrong? Would they think she was too impulsive, too hasty? That she interfered in something she had no right to? Kyra was afraid that the answer to all of those questions would be yes. And if she did leave, would the Council think she was no longer worthy to be a Jedi?

She shook her head, disgusted with her prevaricating. _Gods in a circle, was this what you learned among the Jedi? How to talk an issue to death? Make up your mind and then go and do what you decide. _That was the way of a Starhawk. The way she had grown up with. Unfortunately the quick decision-making, straight-line thinking skills she had possessed were the opposite of her Jedi instructors, who had taught her to consider all sides of an issue before making a decision. But what way was the right one? Perhaps there was no right way. _Follow your heart. And follow the Force._ Thus had Wraith taught her.

Very well. She would do so. The young Windwalker settled herself cross-legged on her couch, and began the meditation exercises that would allow her access to the Force-generated communication pathways the Jedi used to speak with each other across space and time. When she had achieved the deepset calmness of a third-level trance, a state of mind that allowed her to perceive the glowing web that were the Jedi spirits, bound to each other by the Force, she reached out with her mind and touched the strand that was Qui-Gon, the Force flowing through her in a green tide of energy.

_Father? Can you hear me?_

_Kyra? _His mind-voice came back softly, as if from a great distance. _Is something wrong? _

_Where are you?_

He did not respond for so long she feared he had lost the connection. Then he said, _It is better you don't know. For now. It isn't safe for me to talk this way for much longer. He will sense it and be able to locate me with the Dark Side of the Force._

_Who will? Your former apprentice? _She inquired working on picking up the images of the place he was in. She could see high cliffs, and a shore where waves crashed unceasingly against a rocky headland.

_Obi-Wan told you then. I should have known._ His mind voice was a soft sigh.

_Are you going to fight him then?_

_If I have to. If he refuses to listen to me this time, I have no choice._

_Be careful, Father. Don't let him trick you. Strike hard and fast and when your enemy's down—_

_--finish him off quick. _Qui-Gon completed the traditional Starhawk advice from an officer to a recruit. _This once, my daughter, Starhawk wisdom might be the best advice you could give me. Now I must go. Fear not for me, Kyra. Trust in the Force, child._

Then he was gone.

Kyra withdrew from her trance. She was smiling. For she had managed at the last instant to see through the Jedi Master's eyes and she knew where he was. He was on a planet on the outer rim of the galaxy called Tenandryn, that had once been a popular resort about twelve years ago, but had since become the haunt for smugglers, thieves and criminals of the worst sort. The Starhawks had labeled that world as a haven for criminals, and patrolled that sector routinely. Kyra had never been there, but she had heard plenty of stories about that place from the veterans who had been assigned sector duty there.

And one and all said that if ever there was a hell, it was on Tenandryn.

When you walked on that world, you kept on hand on your vibroblade and the other on a blaster and you developed eyes in the back of your head, because the blow that killed you would be the one you never saw coming.

And that was where Qui-Gon had gone hunting his rogue apprentice.

No wonder he had kept his mission a secret from all save Yoda.

For he wandered in a world of darkness, where a single misstep would mean his death.

Kyra shivered, suddenly chilled to the bone.

_Gods in a circle, watch over my father._ She prayed fervently.

She knew without knowing how that if Qui-Gon ran into trouble he was on his own. He would not summon help from his fellow Jedi. They would never be able to reach him in time.

And so she resolved to keep an eye on him herself.

One of the abilities a Windwalker possessed was the power to scry out enemies and allies using the wind and the Force. It was a skill Wraith had taught her just last week, and so far she had used it only to scry small things, like Obi-Wan at his lessons, or Seera working with a patient. She had never attempted to use it to scry events that were so far away, though Wraith had assured her that distance was no barrier to her Force-guided Sight.

_Focus your mind, draw upon the Force, and the wind will show you what you need to See._

It was one of the main abilities which had made a Windwalker so essential to the Jedi long ago, before the Sith had destroyed them. For the ability to See in the wind was not something that could be blocked by the Dark Side, not even if the Sith used a Shroud of Darkness. For a Windwalker drew on both sides of the Force to See, and the Shadow was no barrier to one who was the Balance of Light and Dark.

That was the one great secret of her order, the thing which made them such formidable opponents, the thing which made a Windwalker such an ideal protector of the Jedi.

A Windwalker could use both sides of the Force, and not fear corruption by the Dark Side.

Because the vorcel hawks knew how to guide their bondmates, showing them how to use their emotions, even the more deadly ones like fear and hatred, for their own ends. Since the hawks were not human, and not subject to human emotions, they provided the balancing factor between the negative and positive, enabling their Windwalkers to draw on both sides of the power. _We rule our emotions, they do not rule us. Love must balance hate, and courage fear. No Light without Dark, and no Dark without Light. And the Balance between them is the Gray of Neutrality._

It was why the hawks were bonded so deeply to their bondmates, for only through a joining of heart and soul could the hawks monitor the Windwalker's state of mind, acting as a sort of conscience, maintaining the balance of good and evil within their human partner's soul.

It was a Windwalker's greatest strength and her greatest vulnerability.

Kyra prayed none of the Sith remembered the old legends about Windwalkers. She hoped the knowledge had been forgotten, lost with time. For if it was so, the Jedi would have an advantage over their dark kin like none they had ever known.

And if it became necessary for her to interfere in Qui-Gon's battle with Xanatos she would do so. For she had come to the conclusion that nothing—not even becoming a Jedi apprentice—was as important to her as her father. He was all that remained of her family, all she had left save for Wraith, and she would do all in her power to keep him safe. As he would do for her.

* * * * * *

Three days passed, and Kyra persuaded Wraith to show her the rudimentary beginnings of how to spirit walk. The great hawk was reluctant at first, because the ability to spirit walk was among the most difficult skills a Windwalker ever had to learn, because of the dangers involved. But at last he gave into her urgings once she explained why she was so anxious to learn.

"It's not for myself, Wraith, but for my father. If anything happened to him, I'd never forgive myself."

_"I understand, Chosen. I have family too, and I would give my life for my mate and my nestlings if necessary. Family is one of the most important things in the world, for us hawks as well as you humans."_

"You have a wife and kids?" Kyra repeated in astonished. She had never thought about the vorcel hawks as having family. "I thought you were solitary, and that was why you chose to bond with me."

The hawk made a sound in his throat that was like a chuckle, regarding her with brilliant violet-blue eyes. _"Oh, no, Kyranon. It is the opposite. Only those of us who have formed strong attachments to a mate and fledglings can become bondmates to a human. Only those who know love can form a strong emotional attachment to one who is not of their own kind, not to mention understand human emotions. Very complex creatures, you humans. Not all vorcel hawks could sustain such a relationship. Only those who are the most tolerant and open to human failings and pain. We are few and far between."_

"Then I am luckier than I deserve," Kyra stated feelingly, smiling at her friend. "And so too is my mother."

_"Indeed. The Commander will need Sirath's love more than ever now." _Wraith said softly. _"For she has cut herself off from the two who love her best of her own kind, and that is a very hard thing to endure."_

Kyra scowled. "That was her own doing, not mine. Or my father's. Sirath warned her not to declare me _vrekarin_. She should have listened to him!"

Wraith eyed her sternly. _"And have you always followed my advice, Kyra? Are you so infallible you cannot understand that others, even adults, make mistakes too?"_

The girl flushed at the hawk's chiding tone. "I know she made a mistake, that's why I'm so angry with her. Because of her damn pride and jealousy, I have no mother any more! And I can't undo what she did. Only she can. And I've never heard of a person who's been declared outcast having full honors and privileges granted back to them."

_"There's a first time for everything."_ The hawk said serenely.

"Maybe when the moon trades places with the sun." Kyra snorted. "My mother's a Starhawk, when she gives her pledge to something, she keeps it. No matter what. Even if it tears her heart out."

_"Are you so sure of that? Your mother loves you, child. She may not always say so, but she does. She would not have been so angry with your decision to become a Jedi if she cared nothing for you."_ Wraith pointed out.

"But if she loved me so much, why the hell did she cast me out?"

_"Sometimes love blinds one. And impulsiveness has always been one of her faults, especially when it comes to personal relationships. Ask your father sometime why it was that he left Salishar."_

"What do you mean? He left because he was a Jedi, and the Council called him back."

_"He could have refused the Council's request. He is a Jedi Master and no one's puppet, to be at everyone's beck and call. There was nothing so earth-shattering that it required Qui-Gon specifically to attend to it."_

"Are you telling me my mother sent him away? But why?"

_"That is for your father to tell you, if he chooses. I don't have any answers, I know only that he left Salishar very reluctantly, and it had to do with Ilaren."_

Kyranon shrugged. "Well, whatever it was happened a long time ago. I'm sure he'll tell me when he's ready. Enough about my mother. Show me how to spirit walk, please."

Wraith clicked his beak in agitation. _"Pay attention, Chosen. The reason I suggested we wait before I taught you how to spirit walk is because it requires immense concentration and power. It also involves a great deal of danger. Not just physically but spiritually as well."_

"What do you mean?"

_"I mean that you can be killed, or worse, doing this. You see, in order to spirit walk you must travel to the astral plane, the place between worlds. If your body is killed while you are out of it, you will die. So you must guard your mortal shell very carefully. Also, while you are spirit walking, you are vulnerable to another's will. A strong enough enemy could take over your mind, imprison your soul, possess you utterly. Once that happens, it is very difficult for you to ever free yourself. Few have ever come back from possession and those that did . . .are never what they were before."_

"Why?"

_"Possession is a rape of the spirit. It is a rare individual who can endure such torture and still remain sane, especially when the being controlling their body and mind commits crimes that are heinous in nature. Often the guilt is too much for them to bear, and they choose death rather than face the stigma of dishonor and shame attached to their name. That is why you must never spirit walk unless I am beside you. I alone can guard you well enough to prevent an enemy from seizing hold of your psyche."_

"How can someone possess you? By using the Dark Side of the Force?"

_"Partly. Those who possess manipulate the Dark Side, but ultimately it is power combined with will that enables a person to possess another. The stronger the will, the easier it is to overwhelm another's spirit, and trap it. We vorcel hawks can guard against this because we possess the knowledge of how it is done. Our touching of the Force is such that we can sense an attempt by another to possess someone before it actually occurs, and thus we can drive the attacker off."_

"Oh, I see. You have an advance warning system. Kind of like radar. Or Second Sight." Wraith trilled his approval. "But how many users of the Dark Side can actually possess someone?"

_"I don't know. But forewarned is forearmed, as you Starhawks like to say. It is best to be prepared for anything. Now, put yourself into a third level meditation trance. Once you are there, draw on the Force, let it carry you up and outside of yourself, almost as if you were seeing through my eyes. Let yourself drift. That's right. Very good, Kyra."_

The hawk's voice was hypnotic in its intensity and as Kyra followed his directions, she found herself drifting in a place outside of herself. She was still connected to her body, but it was as if she felt everything at a great distance. She could look down on herself, see herself lying on the couch, but it was almost as if she was seeing someone else.

The real her, the conscious part of herself that she called Kyranon Jinn, that self was drifting in the realm called the astral plane, the place between worlds. _Wraith! Did I do it?_

_You did indeed! That is very good for a first try. Now return to your body. You should not be absent from it for too long in the beginning. One of the dangers of spirit walking is becoming so involved in what you are doing or seeing in the astral plane that you forget to return to your body. You must always monitor yourself carefully, making sure you return to your body at the end of three days at the most. More people have become lost and wander the spirit realm eternally because they forgot to return to their mortal selves, and they allowed their body to die. That is why you must never spirit walk alone. Always take a partner._

_Can a Jedi do this too?_

_"It is possible, but very difficult. Most Jedi find spirit walking too draining and can only do it when they have died. Then, of course, it is much easier, since they are one with the Force. But a Windwalker is different. You have a natural affinity for this kind of thing, partly because you are bonded to me and partly because you are so attuned to the Force. For you, it is as if you had learned this long ago and only need reminding to remember how to do it. But for a Jedi it is as if he or she had to master a whole new language in about five or six days without a translator. Also they must have someone they trust implicitly to journey with them, and such persons are few and far between. A Windwalker doesn't have that problem."_

Kyra nodded. Then she did as Wraith had ordered and floated back into her body. As soon as she had entered her body again, she felt herself overwhelmed by exhaustion. "Gods in a circle! I feel as if I had just sparred with the entire officer corps and run a fifty-kilometer race around Hawk Haven. Why am I so tired?"

_"Spirit walking requires immense concentration and energy. It is very exhausting for a beginner. Though as you become more adept, you will be less tired. But it will always be draining on you, which is why most Windwalkers do it as a last resort, for spirit walking uses up much of your strength, leaving you vulnerable to a Force-generated attack._"

"Oh. That's good to know." She yawned. "Guess I'll go to sleep now. Night, Wraith." She did not even hear his response, she was asleep before her eyes were fully closed.

**I apologize for the strange broken paragraphs, my computer was giving me problems and I haven't been able to get online until recently. I have now fixed them.**

"


	7. Chapter 7

By the end of three more days, Kyra had managed to travel through the astral realm with Wraith for about two hours or so before she had to return to her body. Wraith had told her it was possible to use her Force powers while in astral form, though the more she tried to do in astral form, the more exhausted she would become. And if she exhausted herself too badly she might not be able to return to her body. Though Wraith had assured her he would keep watch and send her back long before that occurred.

In addition to her practicing spirit walking, she was also learning how to heal from Master Andrilas and Seera, who was his special apprentice. Healing using the Force was not something she had thought she would be good at. She had grown up a soldier for almost all her life, and while she respected healers, she was a fighter first and foremost. Her impulsive and active nature did not lend itself to peaceful solutions, but thanks to the Jedi's teaching she learned to control that side of herself, and discovered to her shock that her compassionate nature was an asset in her healing.

"A good healer," said Master Andrilas, "must always be able to empathize with his or her patients. That is the key to making someone well with the Force. The other skill is the ability to visualize concretely the healed arm, leg, or whatever. Will, empathy, and visualization. Master those three things and you will be able to bring a person back from the point of death, if you are strong enough in the Force. Of course, such an individual is rare, but you can learn to heal a patient enough so conventional medicine can finish the job."

"Can you heal a person who is at the point of death, Master Andrilas?" Kyra asked.

The tall platinum-haired man nodded. "Once I did so. I was a young man at the time, only fifteen. At the time I was not a Jedi, did not even know that I could wield the Force. I was supposed to be watching my baby brother, he was about two, and I was annoyed at having to do so. He was the kind of child who is always into everything, you couldn't take your eyes off him for an instant. I wanted to play with my friends, and I foolishly left him alone for a minute when I went to chat with a friend. It was long enough for him to wander down near the lake and fall in. I was certain he was dead when I found him some ten minutes later. In my terror and guilt, I tapped into the Force, and my wish for him to live was so great that I literally willed the breath back into his body and started his heart beating again. It was then that I knew I was meant to be a Jedi. But I've never been able to summon that kind of power again, even now."

"Then you were old to begin your Jedi training." Kyra observed.

Andrilas nodded. "Like you, child. But I made up for my late start by becoming a Jedi Knight within four years. Though it's been many years since I've wielded a lightsaber. I much prefer healing to fighting." He looked at his newest student shrewdly. "Many might say it is otherwise with you, from your skill with a blade, but your compassionate nature lends itself to healing readily. More than even you realize, Kyra. I think you can be both healer and warrior."

"I can try. Though Wraith did mention that a Windwalker was often both."

"So I have heard, child." Andrilas smiled. "Shall we continue?" he tapped the model of the human body on the table. "This bone in the arm is called the ulna and is connected to the radius by a tendon . . ."

* * * * * *

After her lesson with Master Andrilas, Kyra attended lectures by other teachers, learning about alien cultures and worlds. The Jedi taught tolerance for all species and customs, regarding each being as having the right to believe and behave in the way that was most suited to it. Though they accepted that some beliefs might not coincide with their own, they nevertheless did not condone some creatures need to subjugate and conquer or murder others. Though they would not interfere in a creature's belief system, it was a Jedi's duty to promote peace in the galaxy, and they would step in if the race in question was being mistreated and defend them against their prosecutors.

One of the Jedi creeds was that force begets force, and anger could only lead to the Dark Side. While Kyra believed in that saying, she nevertheless could not subscribe to it fully. Sometimes force was a necessary deterrent, or as a Starhawk sergeant had once said, "Sometimes you need to kick a criminal's ass before he realizes he's not the biggest bully on the playground. One well-timed punch can save a lot of grief later."

Such as that incident with Rilyan and his gang of bullies. Kyra had given the boy plenty of opportunities to quit hurting Mero and her friends, but when he refused to listen to her she had been forced to fight him in order to drive home the point that she meant what she said and what he did was wrong._ I wonder what his father did to him and his brother for lying to him like that? If they'd been my sons, I'd haven beaten them black and blue for shaming my House like that. They would never do anything like that again, that much I'd tell you._

Wraith laughed. _"I don't know if your father would agree with your decision. A Jedi prefers to teach by example, not fear." _

Kyra snorted. "My father didn't grow up a Starhawk. My mother believed quite firmly in the rule of three. Meaning she gave you three chances to do what she said and behave the way you were supposed to. If you still didn't listen by the third time, you got a good smack. It worked. On me and all the other children. Starhawks don't tolerate spoiled brats. If those boys had been given Starhawk discipline at an early age, they wouldn't have done what they did."

_"Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Who is to say what can and cannot be? Not even I."_

"You're right. They still might have turned out bad. But it just wouldn't have been as likely. One thing I do know is that they would have learned to accept the consequences of their actions and not tried to lie their way out of trouble. If there's one thing a Starhawk hates, it's a snitch and a liar."

_"Vorcel hawks too."_

"Come on then, featherbrain, let's fly!" the Windwalker laughed. "I'm tired of feeling the ground beneath my boots." Then with a thought, she summoned a wind and soared into the cloudless sky above the Temple.

_"Featherbrain_!" Wraith squawked indignantly. _"I am fully as intelligent as you, youngling_!"

"I'll give you that, but can you fly as fast?"

Wraith gave a sharp cry and streaked after his bondmate, soaring and diving in the air until they were mere blurs against the glittering pale gold sun. And for a moment, Kyranon put aside her concerns and became the child she had never been, reveling in the joy of flight and her connection with the Force and her best friend.

From the steps of the Temple, a small green figure watched the pair at play. A pleased grin creased Yoda's wizened face. _Much responsibility has that one been given. Almost too much. Good it is to see her shed it for awhile. The hawk must fly free, for none can cage the wind._ He watched them for a few minutes longer, then he returned to his meditation.

* * * * * *

That night the vision returned, its insidious presence stealing through her subconscious on spectral feet, cat-like it crept upon her without warning. Once again she beheld the cloaked Sith Lord, the red glow of his lightsaber outlining his form in a bloody mist. Once again she saw him challenge Qui-Gon, his preternatural speed and strength driving the Jedi Master back and back, but then the vision changed. Unlike the previous one, this vision did not end with the Sith standing over a mortally wounded Qui-Gon. Instead a second black robed figure appeared from the side, and now he too threatened the Jedi Master. Together the two Sith baited the Jedi between them, and even Qui-Gon's mastery of the Force was not enough.

_The pattern shifts._

This time when the Jedi Master went to one knee, the taller Sith Lord stepped back and gestured to his apprentice. "Finish him."

Kyranon felt her mouth gape in a soundless scream.

Then the purple lightsaber flashed down, trailing sparks like a comet, and took her father's head from his shoulders.

_No!_ her heart screamed. _It can't end like that. I never had a chance to save him. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be_.

She woke from her nightmare shaking so hard that her teeth chattered, sweat trickling like ice down her neck, dread making her head swim. The pattern shifts. A new player had entered the game. And he would show no mercy to a fallen foe. She knew with an icy certainty that what she had dreamed would come to pass, exactly as she had seen it.

Unless she acted to prevent it.

_Wraith!_ She called soundlessly.

_"I am here, Chosen_." Came the hawk's soothing trill in her mind. He flew from his perch to settle beside her on the bed. His warm feathers pressed close beside her, warming her chilled body. "_Was it the vision again?"_

_Worse. This time it was different. There were two of them, and this time—may all the gods help me—this time they killed him. She began to tremble, fear nearly overwhelming her._

_"The pattern shifts. Dark overwhelms Light."_

_Help me, Wraith! I can't let that happen, no matter what the Jedi say about destiny. He's my father. I won't just stand there and let him die._

_"Are you sure this is the right path for you, Chosen?"_

_Of course! Are you mad? You said it yourself. Dark overwhelms Light. That's not supposed to happen. The Balance has shifted. It is up to me to put it right._

_"So be it, then."_

Kyranon paused, gathering her thoughts. "I don't know when this is going to occur, though I think soon. Very soon." She said aloud. "If I spirit walk to where he is, I can keep an eye on things until that second one enters the battle."

_"And then?"_

"Then I'll go and kick that apprentice's ass." The former Starhawk declared softly, her green eyes blazing with battle fever. "And maybe that Shadow Master's too."

Wraith gave a soft cry of amazement. _"Hail, Windwalker! You have come into your own at last. Let us travel the winds, my friend. Your first battle awaits."_

"And may the gods grant us victory." Then Kyranon Jinn took three deep breaths and entered the meditative trance that would allow her to free her spirit from her body for a time. Together, she and the glowing vorcel hawk flew down the shining pathways, following Kyra's connection that bound her to the Jedi Master. Swifter than thought they traveled the mist shrouded astral plane, Wraith's wings gleaming iridescently through the fog, guiding her effortlessly onward.

She felt like she had been flying forever, her mind focused on but one thing. Must reach Qui-Gon before it is too late. She felt the Force flow through her, the life energy surging through her like electricity through wire. It filled her until she glowed, transmuting her to pure power. She was fire and light, flesh made energy. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

_"Chosen!"_ Wraith called sharply. _"Focus on your mission! Don't give in to the power."_

In another instant she would have been lost to the siryn call that was the pure power of the Force. In another instant she would have ceased to be Kyranon Jinn, surrendering self and life to the brilliant energy that flowed about her. Only Wraith's voice prevented that.

She clutched at the hawk's voice like a lifeline, pulling herself back from the seductive call of the primal energy that permeated the astral plane. Only now did she understand the dangers inherent in submersing yourself too totally in the Force. She closed down some of her conduits to the Force, only drawing as much as she needed to maintain her connection to Qui-Gon and spirit walk.

_Thanks, Wraith._

The hawk trilled his relief and the two continued, though this time Kyra was careful not to listen to the Force-song about her too closely. _My overconfidence nearly killed me there. Good thing Wraith was watching, she thought with a mental shudder. _Never had she been so grateful for the vorcel hawk's steady presence. _He is the Balance of me_.

Though the astral journey seemed to take an eternity, it actually only took several heartbeats. Then they were before the glowing amber strand that was Qui-Gon's life-force. Kyra hovered before it, not touching it, for then he would sense her presence, but close enough to reassure herself that he was well. If he had been injured or in danger, the amber strand would have grown dark or flared wildly. It burned with a steady light, unwavering.

The Windwalker released the breath she had been holding.

She had come in time then.

She tapped into the Force once more, this time bidding the swirling patterns of energy to show her Qui-Gon as he was at that moment.


	8. Chapter 8

The wind of the astral plane swirled about her, gathering the strands in her ethereal fingers, she wove a circle in the air. "Show me!" she commanded.

The circle blazed with light, then went dark, opaque as a television screen. In the next instant she saw Qui-Gon standing, lightsaber drawn, in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. The floor was crowded with crates and boxes, piled with bits and pieces of machinery, coils of wire, odds and ends of things she had no name for. It was lit by the sputtering glow of several electrical light bulbs, lending an air of decay to the place. Broken wires hung like serpents from the walls, hovering like vines above the Jedi-Master's head.

He was dressed in the typical brown tunic and pants of a Jedi on a mission, his brown hair drawn back into a tail. His blue eyes were full of determination. But he looked weary, as if all of his strength was focused on getting him past this last obstacle, the skin about his face was pale and there were huge circles beneath his eyes as if he had not slept in days.

She had never seen him so worn. Like an old alpha wolf, aging but still showing his teeth at the younger ones, she thought. Until the challengers pull him down.

_Not if I can help it!_ She thought fiercely, pushing that thought aside. If she had any doubts as to the rightness of her cause, even one, she would not be able to save him.

_Do. Or do not. There is no try._ Master Yoda's advice to his trainees echoed in her head. Followed by her mother's. _Never doubt in battle. That'll kill you quicker than a blaster, Lieutenant_.

Tension quivering through every pore of her being, Kyra watched and waited.

The minutes crept by.

Then Qui-Gon turned his head, stiffening, as if he had sensed something.

Kyra felt a sudden shadow hover over her, as the Sith Lord's presence resonated into the astral, slimy and cold and reeking of corruption. It would have made her sick to her stomach, if she had a stomach in this form. _"Steady, Chosen."_ Wraith said. _"The aura of a Sith is always so, the first time you encounter it. Shield yourself and be patient. The time to act is not yet."_

She did as he had ordered, wrapping a Force-made shield about her presence, masking herself from them and making it impossible for the Sith to try and take over her mind. Not that he was considering it. All of his attention was focused upon his ancient enemy.

She snapped her gaze back to the scrying pool.

"So. We meet again, Qui-Gon Jinn." The Sith Lord was saying, his voice a hollow whisper. His tall form towered over the slender Jedi Master, all blackness and size.

Then he cast back his hood, revealing a rather ordinary blond man in his late twenties. Only his eyes betrayed his allegiance to the Dark Side. They blazed with hate and darkness as deep as the pits of despair.

"You haven't changed much, Xanatos. Or have you changed your name again?"

"I am Darth Majestrix now."

"Ah. Dark Majesty." Qui-Gon laughed softly. "You always did have a high opinion of yourself."

"Something you pathetic Jedi could not stomach, right Master Qui-Gon?" the Sith Lord sneered, his handsome mouth twisting. "You were always telling me to beware pride, always scolding me about my attitude. Why should I grovel in the dirt like a beggar, serving the common scum of the galaxy as if I was no better than a shipping clerk? When I could wield such power as they never dreamed!"

"Better Lord of Darkness, then a servant of the Light?" Qui-Gon shook his head sadly. "That was always your problem, Xanatos. You never understood the balance between Dark and Light. It was always all or nothing with you. You must be the best, else you were nothing. You were not content to guide, you must rule."

"And so I do, old man! I'm no longer your apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, so quit lecturing me as if I was a misbehaving schoolboy!" Xanatos flung back his head and laughed mockingly. "Great Jedi Master, wise teacher, how I dreaded your scolding tongue when I was a boy. That was before I understood your attempt to keep me from the true power that was my birthright. The heritage I was born to. The legacy of the Dark Side!"

"A legacy that corrupted and destroyed you, boy." Qui-Gon pointed out. "What do you rule now, Xanatos? A planet full of people who fear and hate you? A world that is dying, poisoned by chemicals and factories, by the greed of men who care only for power? Such a kingdom as to make all men envy you. Was it worth it, Xanatos, to betray what I taught you?"

The Sith Lord's face grew dark with rage. "Shut up, Qui-Gon!" he shrieked. "I rule more than you ever will! You never understood me, never! Not you or my father. He was just like you, trying to keep all the power for himself, the miserable wretch. Until I taught him the error of his ways." Xanatos laughed. "All those who oppose me must die. That is the law of the Dark. Mastery of all, dominion over life."

"And it is a lie, isn't it?" Qui-Gon said gently. "As you discovered. For no man can master all life. Look at yourself, Xanatos. You shroud yourself in darkness, hiding away on your dying planet, pretending to rule over all you survey. You deceive yourself with lies and illusions, my son. For the truth is that you are alone, a vengeful child who has killed his family and murdered his playmates, and now cries because he has no one to play with. And the only one who hears you sobbing in the darkness is yourself. For power cannot comfort."

"You are wrong, old man!" Xanatos screamed. "It is _you_ who are blinded by illusion. For you believe you can reform me, turn me back to the Light. You are mistaken, Master." He ignited his lightsaber. "For I am no son of yours! I never loved you. Only what you could teach me."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "I know. Yet I loved you. Sometimes even a Jedi is a fool." He parried his former student's blow. "It is time we ended this." Then he lunged, his lightsaber meeting Xanatos's red one with a sharp crackle.

Back and forth the two fought, moving with the grace of dancers, their blades hissing in the air. Qui-Gon's bright green blade met Xanatos' blood-red one, driving his former student back three steps. The Jedi Master was quick as a Lemboran viper, here, there, everywhere. Striking with a swiftness that had to be seen to be believed, Qui-Gon attacked, and there was no hesitation in his movements. He gave Xanatos no quarter, clearly he had enough of his ungrateful former apprentice's attitude.

Kyra watched, hypnotized by the play of swords, noting with some detached part of herself that Qui-Gon was as a fine a swordsman as her mother, as good as Kyra herself. The consummate warrior. _That's where I get my talent. From him as well as her. And in me both heritages combine._

Xanatos was becoming frustrated, she saw, bringing his lightsaber about in ever more frantic moves, trying to throw Qui-Gon off guard, using shortened sword forms that gave more power to his blows but took away accuracy.

Soon, now. One or the other would make a mistake. Kyra waited with baited breath. Then Xanatos made a slight gesture with one hand. And a second black cloaked figure leaped out from behind a stack of crates, his purple lightsaber glowing luridly in the gloom.

"You might take me, Jedi scum!" the Sith Lord laughed mockingly at Qui-Gon's astonished expression. "But my apprentice Lon Tobyn will finish you off."

The apprentice, a skinny stick of a boy with eyes that reminded Kyra of a serpent, cold and emotionless, brought up his blade, rushing toward the Jedi Master with a howl of fury.

Halfway there his purple blade was met with a glowing emerald one, as Kyranon appeared out of the astral ether, creating a copy of her vibroblade with her mind.

"What?" the dark apprentice stared at her stupidly.

"Surprise, viper!" Kyra grinned at him. "Two against one isn't fair. Now you face a professional, little boy."

"Who are you?"

"A Starhawk officer. A friend of the Jedi." She answered, countering his strike with a barely perceptible movement of her blade. "I am a Windwalker." She drew upon the Force, letting the energy fill her, giving her the strength she needed to survive this fight. For she was not there in a physical sense. Only intense concentration enabled her to project her spirit on the material world, so that she could fight the dark apprentice.

She heard Wraith shriek above her as he too joined the battle.

Lon Tobyn screamed as the vorcel hawk's talons scored his face. "Bastard son of a demon!" He aimed a strike at the hawk, but Wraith dodged easily, shrieking a vorcel hawk's cry of defiance.

Qui-Gon glanced at his daughter for one moment. He understood what she had done. _Kyranon, my daughter. Do not do this. Not for me._ But there was no time for him to protest his impulsive, brave child's actions. For Xanatos was coming at him again, his face a mask of hate, and the Jedi must tend to his own battle. _Fight with honor, Daughter of House Aranell!_

Then Qui-Gon spun his blade, coming about to meet Xanatos's lunge squarely. "Getting tired, boy?" he taunted, using exactly the same tone he had when Xanatos was his apprentice, the faintly mocking goading voice that never failed to make the angry young man abandon his discipline entirely and fight recklessly.

The Sith Lord spat, his eyes pits of fury. "I shall crush you, Qui-Gon Jinn! Your bones will be dust beneath my boots when I am done with you!" Then he brought his saber about in a lethal move called the Serpent's Final Strike.

Qui-Gon countered, but the parry put him in a bad position, unable to attack, only to defend. The Serpent's Strike was one of the outlawed moves in the Jedi dueling code. Qui-Gon wondered where Xanatos had learned it. He himself knew the counter only because Ilaren had taught him it.

Meanwhile, Lon Tobyn, bleeding from the talon slash across his face, was driven in ever increasing circles by Kyra, whose spirit form flickered before him like a phantom of the underworld.

"What the devil are you? A ghost?" the dark apprentice cried, parrying frantically.

Kyranon grinned, though her smile was grim. "I am your worst nightmare." She spun her sword, tossing it up into the air.

For one moment she was weaponless. Lon Tobyn thrust at her, but his saber slid harmlessly through her ethereal form. Then, as it had done hundreds of times before, the hilt of her vibroblade smacked into her opposite palm, and she lunged in the classic stance of a fencer, the vibroblade at full extension.

Lon Tobyn wore an expression somewhere between shock and horror as the vibroblade slid home in his chest. "That was for trying to kill my father, bastard spawn of serpents!" she told him. "May demons gnaw your bones, traitor."

Then she spun about, her vibroblade flickering like a living thing, to see how Qui-Gon was faring.

An overwhelming lassitude was sweeping over her as she did so, a warning that she had expended too much energy, that she was dangerously close to the end of her strength. Wraith called wordlessly to her, warning her to withdraw. She ignored the vorcel hawk's command, focusing on the duel between Xanatos and Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon had thought the battle was going pretty well up until the time his foot had slipped upon a slick patch of spilled oil, throwing him off balance and down on one knee.

Xanatos's eyes glowed with glee as he attacked with blinding quickness, reveling in that fatal misstep. The blood-red sword cracked down on the green blade, relentless. Qui-Gon used the Force to block most of the attacks, getting to his feet in a slightly shaky motion.

_Damn! The _Jedi Master snarled. _I think I wrenched my knee_. It was the price one paid for getting old, he thought ruefully. For that never would have happened ten years ago.

Limping slightly, unable to put his full weight on his injured leg, Qui-Gon held his lightsaber in a classic defense position. His knee throbbed, but he blocked the pain away using Jedi pain-blocking techniques. He hoped to catch Xanatos off-guard so he could finish this quickly. Even with the pain blocks in place, he knew his knee would not hold up under too much stress.

Xanatos grinned like a death's head, coming at the injured Jedi in a swirl of black cloak, his red sword lashing out in a devastating combination called the Boar's Tusk.

The green blade blocked, barely, as Qui-Gon was unable to use his right leg to avoid the blow. Gritting his teeth, the Jedi forced himself to move, rolling out of reach of Xanatos' return strike. He used the Force to levitate, taking all his weight off his knee, hovering in the air.

The Sith Lord laughed. "Come on, old man, admit it! You are beaten. By one who is your better in all things. Even this, Qui-Gon Jinn! Surrender, weakling, to Darth Majestrix. For I am the beginning and the end of all things!"

Then he lunged, using the Force to meet Qui-Gon in the air, smashing into him with all the force of his younger, stronger body, his lightsaber slashing down, knocking the green blade from Qui-Gon's hand, sending the injured Jedi tumbling down to the ground.

Qui-Gon rolled to lessen the impact, but it still hurt, he could feel all his bones ache as he hit the concrete floor. Above him, Darth Majestrix laughed. The Jedi Master crawled toward his lightsaber, trying to summon the blade to him with the Force. There was a red mist in his vision, and he realized he had cut his head in his fall, and blood was dripping into his eyes.

_Move, warrior! Quickly!_ The Jedi Master urged himself silently, knowing all the while that he would not be quick enough to avoid the other's strike.

That was what Kyra saw when she turned back to see how her father was. The badly injured Qui-Gon on the ground, reaching for his lightsaber while Darth Majestrix hovered over him, lightsaber in hand, laughing like a fiend.

With a snarl of pure hate, Kyra charged, the Force giving her spirit form wings. "Traitor! Turn and face me, Dark One. For I am vengeance come to claim you at last!"

Darth Majestrix spun, just barely getting his sword up in time to block her strike. "Little witch, do you honestly believe you can defeat me? You don't even have a proper lightsaber!"

Kyra ignored the taunts, concentrating on keeping her fading spirit imbued with enough energy to keep her in the material realm, letting the maneuvers that had become automatic from all of her practices guide her sword. She fought that battle with only half of her mind, countering the other's thrusts automatically, her vision Force-sharpened, she sought out the weaknesses in his defense.

Like an avenging angel, she soared about him, moving quicker than thought. Twice his red blade thrust through her, but she was not harmed. Then she attacked, her vibroblade glistening emerald bright in the air. It met the other blade, moved down it with a hiss, and then she flipped the other's hilt out of his hand.

It cartwheeled off into the darkness.

"Darth Majestrix, your rule ends now." Kyra said, ignoring the pleading gaze the Sith threw her. "You've betrayed my father for the last time."

The vibroblade spun in a slow arc, and it seemed to take an eternity before it sliced through the other's neck, beheading him. Thus the vision was fulfilled. With death. Only not Qui-Gon's. The pattern shifts.

She let the vibroblade fade. The glimmering blade vanished, and so did the remainder of her strength.

"Kyranon!" Qui-Gon shouted, his voice harsh with fear. "Go back! Now! Wraith, take her home!"

_"Chosen!"_ the vorcel hawk shrieked, hovering above her flickering form. _"Follow me back. Quickly."_

She released her hold on the material world, feeling herself fly free, for one instant she drifted, unable to remember who she was, or where she must go. She was so weak . . .so tired . . .

Then Wraith's glowing presence was there, urging her back. She grabbed hold of him with the last of her conscious self, clinging to his wings with the last of her strength.

The vorcel hawk flew quicker than thought, his iridescent wings burning a fiery trail through the astral mist, the spark that was Kyra clinging like a dust mote. The hawk could feel his bondmate fading, as she had used the last of her energy to fight Darth Majestrix.

Wraith shrieked a wordless encouragement, as he used the last of his own strength to return from the astral to the material world, thrusting Kyranon Jinn's fading spirit back inside her body.

Then the vorcel hawk collapsed next to her, exhausted.


	9. Chapter 9

Kyra wandered through a formless mist, lost in an endless fog. Behind her she could sense something searching for her, but she did not know what it was. She began to run, seeking to escape whatever it was that hunted her, but the mist was confusing, blunting her sense of direction. She could not tell which way to go, it was all the same.

Only the voice behind her was different. It was saying something, words, she thought. Almost she could understand them. Almost.

She sensed she must concentrate, must hear what the voice was saying. But it was so hard, the fog was so thick, and she was so weary of wandering in circles. It would be so easy to just . . .let go.

_Kyranon Jinn! Come back! Come back to me!_

The voice was familiar.

She knew it.

It was the other half of her soul.

_Wraith! Is that you?_

_"Yes! Now come, Chosen. Come home. Where you belong."_

Where did she belong? She had a home once, but then something had happened, she had become outcast. She had no home any longer. She was no longer a Starhawk. Nor a Jedi either. What then was she?

_"You are my Windwalker, Kyra. And I love you. Your home is wherever you choose, with me beside you. Come back."_ The longing and need in the hawk's tone tore at her soul.

She was no longer lost. She had been found. She did as the hawk wished, and followed him home.

Kyranon opened her eyes to find a very worried Wraith perched by her side, clucking over her the way he would have one of his own nestlings. Beside him was an equally concerned Qui-Gon, a white bandage across his forehead.

"Kyra! You're awake!" he exclaimed.

It was a moment before she recalled how to speak, then she said softly, "How long was I asleep? I can't remember."

"A week, I think. When I got back, Wraith was frantic. No one could wake you. You were so weakened from your spirit walking, you hovered close to death. The Jedi Masters could not reach you. Wraith did not have enough strength to call you back on his own, the most he could do was make certain your spirit remained within your body. When I was well enough to do so, I came here, and gave him my strength. That was what reached you in the end."

"I was lost . . .in a mist . . .I could hear you calling but I didn't recognize you . . ."

_"You had very nearly faded away."_ Wraith said, rubbing his head against her cheek. _"If not for Qui-Gon here, I would have lost you. And that is why apprentices don't learn spirit walking until their fourth year."_

"I should say not!" Qui-Gon frowned at the hawk. "What on earth were you thinking, teaching her how to spirit walk at this stage of her apprenticeship?"

Wraith sighed, ruffling his feathers. _"It was either teach her or she would have attempted it on her own. Your daughter is a very stubborn individual."_

"So I noticed." He turned to Kyra. "How are you feeling?"

She considered. "A little sore, and my head feels like I've just run into a brick wall, but other than that I think I'm fine."

"Good." Her father smiled at her. "Now I can yell at you." He scowled at her fiercely. "Gods in a circle, child, what were you thinking? Or not thinking, is the point. Following me from the spirit realm! Do you know how dangerous that is? Even _I _would hesitate to attempt it, and I'm a Jedi Master!"

"But I'm a Windwalker." She began.

"Oh, and that makes it all right? Child, being a Windwalker doesn't mean you are all powerful. Stronger than most of the Jedi, yes, but even you can be killed." He shivered. "And you almost were. I almost wasn't in time. Another few minutes and you would have gone to the Blessed Realms. Damn it, girl! Your recklessness nearly cost us all dearly."

She felt herself flush in shame, but she managed to say, "I did it for you, you know. Because of the vision, the one I kept having. The one where you died."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yoda never told you?" she asked. She explained the recurring vision she had seen. "Did you think I would just stand there and let him kill you, sir? You ought to know me better than that. No Starhawk would ever watch a comrade die without trying to save him. And you're more than just a comrade, you're my father."

"Kyranon, Kyranon," Qui-Gon sighed reprovingly. "What am I to do with you? Your impulsive behavior scares me to death, do you know that? When I found out what you had done, I was torn between hugging you and beating some sense into you."

Kyra's eyes went wide. "That sounds like something Mother would say."

"And do, no doubt, if you were but a few years younger. I was very nearly tempted myself." He chuckled at her shocked look. "You forget, I lived on Salishar, little hawk, for five years. I'm no stranger to Starhawk discipline. It works, as I'm sure you know."

"But you don't agree with it."

"Did I say that? Other Jedi might find the Starhawk way a bit harsh, but I was always of the opinion that a quick smack never hurt a disobedient brat too much. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kyra eyed him warily. "If I say yes, will you hit me?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, because in your case, it wouldn't do any good." He eyed her sternly. "But if you ever pull something like that again, young lady, I might reconsider what I just said. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father."

Qui-Gon hugged her tightly. "It's a good thing your mother doesn't know what you did. The both of us would never hear the end of it."

"Tell me about it." Kyra laughed. "Father, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why did you leave Salishar?"

Her question caught the Jedi Master by surprise. For a few moments he remained silent, and Kyra feared she had somehow offended him. Then he said quietly, "I fell in love with your mother when she and I were stationed together on a cruise ship headed for Antares. It was something neither of us intended to happen, but it was impossible to deny. I loved Ilaren the way I have never loved another woman, and never will ever again. And she did me. It was almost like a life-bond."

"But . . .then why are you apart now?"

"For many reasons. Our careers are one reason. The life of a Jedi does not mesh with that of a Starhawk Commander. And Ilaren, I think, was frightened of how close we were. She had never believed in mystical powers, she laughed at me when we first met, saying the Force was nothing but a parlor trick to fool unsuspecting children and idiots. Until I showed her otherwise. She was always a little bit afraid of my powers, I think, as if she feared I would see inside her soul and not like what I saw. Nothing I said would reassure her. But despite that she loved me, that much I know. So I married her. I became her consort, according to Salisharan custom. And I spent five years by her side." He smiled reminiscently. "Those were the best five years of my life. Ilaren and I . . .we were like tinder and flint, we struck sparks off each other constantly, but no matter how we argued, we always forgave each other. We were linked together too deeply not to. I think that closeness scared her, she was afraid she would become too dependent upon me, lose her ability to be herself, to make her own decisions. She didn't understand that the bond works both ways. She said to me many times that warriors and magic don't mix. It was her way of denying her fear of the unknown."

"And that was why she asked you to leave? Because she was afraid of losing herself?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "It was a mistake. The worst mistake she ever made. I tried to convince her otherwise. But you know what she's like when she gets an idea in her head. We quarreled bitterly. Don't look so surprised, I have more than my share of a temper, I simply learned to control it so it doesn't show. But with Ilaren, my control falls apart. I said several things I regret terribly. The next day I left Salishar forever. It took everything I had to walk away from her. I never forgot her. Over the years I considered going back, just to see if we might be able to make peace between us. But somehow I never did."

"Then I showed up on your doorstep."

"You did. It was like seeing Ilaren's ghost, at first. Then when I realized who you were, I was shocked and angry all over again at her. For I tell you, Kyra, that had I known she was carrying my child, I'd have never walked away that day. No matter what she wanted, I would have stayed."

"But what of your oath as a Jedi?"

"I would have fulfilled it. On Salishar. Not all Jedi travel all over the galaxy, you know. I would have restricted my wanderings until you were grown, I think. Not even my vows as a Jedi come before my family."

"Do you really mean that?"

"On my honor as a Jedi Master, I do."

"It's too bad Mother never understood that. She always made it seem as though her career came first, and me second."

"I think that was a way for her to forget what she had done." Her father said. "But she loved you, Kyra. Still does, no matter what she says. When she gets over her anger at you choosing a different path, I think she'll admit she's wrong and retract her words."

"But how can she?"

"All things are possible, my daughter." He bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. "And now, I think you could do with something to eat and some more rest. Tomorrow you go before the Council, you know." He reminded her.

"What? I was asleep for that long?" she gasped. "But I haven't time to prepare or anything!"

"Prepare? This isn't like a criminal trial, you don't need to defend yourself." The Jedi Master laughed. "All you need is to present yourself to the Council. And be yourself, child."

Kyra swallowed sharply. "Father? Will you be . . .disappointed if they don't accept me as a Jedi apprentice?"

"I think that's a question you need to ask yourself first," he said, smiling at her. "But if it'll help, the answer is no. Whatever path you choose, you will always be my daughter and I will always love you."

"And I will always love you." Kyra said, tears glittering in her eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

"That's part of my job." He remarked. "As a father, not a Jedi, I mean."

"I know." She smiled at him. "Do you think you could get me some supper? I'm starving."

"As you command, First Daughter," he said in Salisharan, bowing to her as if he was a servant.

"Stop that!" she ordered, but she was laughing. "I'm not a First Daughter anymore."

"Oh, yes you are. Mine." Then he left to do as she had requested.

Kyra grinned. _Whatever happens tomorrow, I know I will always have a home. And a father._ She thought about the question she had asked, and found that the answer to it was not the one she would have given a month ago. A month before, when she had first arrived at the Temple, throwing away her hard-won place as a Starhawk for the uncertain future of a Jedi, she would have been devastated if the Council had declared her unfit to be one of them. But now . . . now things were different. Now she did not know the answer to her own question.


	10. Chapter 10

Dawn had just touched the tops of the trees in the Temple garden when Kyranon received the summons from the Council. She dressed in her best tunic and pants, the ones she reserved for formal occasions. They were a close version of Starhawk blues, the dress uniform of an officer. She braided her hair and clipped her vibroblade on her belt. Then, after a glance in the mirror to ensure that she was as presentable as she was going to get, she walked down to the chamber where the Council met. Wraith flew ahead of her, his great wings glittering in the early sun like diamonds, heralding the arrival of his Chosen.

Seera and Obi-Wan stepped out from behind a large potted palm tree, smiling and giving her a thumbs –up sign. "Good luck, my friend." Seera told her, smiling a gentle smile.

"You'll make it." Obi-Wan said. "If they could take someone as fumblefooted as me, they'll take you. You're the best swordsman out of all of us."

Kyra managed a smile. "Sword skill isn't everything." She sighed. "But it's a start. See you later."

"Hey." Obi-Wan caught her shoulder. "No matter what happens, we'll always be your friends. Just thought you should know that."

"Thank you both. For everything." Then she went forward through the great double doors to face at last the judgement of the Council.

Despite her resolve not to show any nerves, she felt her palms start to sweat, though outwardly she looked calm, serene, in control. It was all a lie. She was as nervous now as she had been on the last day of graduation from the Starhawk Academy, waiting to receive her wings that would signify to all that she was a full-fledged officer now. This was much the same.

Across the vast tiled floor of the Council chamber, Qui-Gon flashed her an encouraging smile, breaking all the rules of Jedi etiquette, she thought with a smirk. His words to her last night warmed her, banishing the last of her nerves. Wraith settled on her shoulder as she walked toward the semi-circle of Jedi Masters seated in large blue curved chairs before her.

They regarded her calmly, the same way they would have regarded a new species of bird or insect. She met their scrutiny calmly, not fidgeting or looking down at her feet. She faced them with the same calmness she would have shown an opponent in the dueling arena, assessing strengths and weaknesses in a single penetrating glance.

"So, Kyranon Jinn." Yoda spoke first. "Your month has come to an end. Accept you now the judgement of this Council?"

"I will, Master."

"So be it. Powerful are you in the Force. Perhaps the most powerful we have ever seen." Yoda observed.

"That much we knew already." A slender blue-skinned Master called Twylla said.

"And skilled with a sword as well." Mace Windu pointed out. "Much like her father."

"Indeed." Master Daelith said. "But sword skill and Force potential are not the main criteria for a Jedi candidate."

"But they play a major role." Mace Windu told him.

"True. But attitude also plays a role," said another.

"And actions. That most of all." Yoda added. "Questionable they are. Disobeyed your father, did you not? You followed where you should not have, though saved him you did. Tell us why?"

"I had a vision before I came here. A vision of a Sith Lord standing over my father, laughing at him and then slaying him. It was one of the things that led me to you. That and because I needed training in the Force. The vision began to grow stronger, more frequent. Wraith said it meant the event was drawing closer. Then my father left on his secret mission. And a week ago I had another dream vision. Only this time it was different. This time he faced two Sith Lords, master and apprentice. And this time he died before I could save him. The pattern had shifted, as the Balance between Dark and Light had shifted. It was then I decided I must act. For I could not bear for that vision to come true. My father is the only family I have now, since my mother declared me vrekarin. I knew what I did was risky, impulsive, dangerous. I knew it might well mean my death as well as his. But somehow none of that mattered. All that counted was saving a life. If what I did was wrong in your eyes, then I am sorry. But I did what I felt was right, and I will never regret my decision."

"Well said, young warrior." Mace Windu gave her a nod of approval.

"Surely you don't condone her actions, Master Windu!" cried Twylla. "She did not bother to consider the consequences of her interference with the vision she was shown. Perhaps she altered the course of history with her reckless behavior. Such a thing speaks poorly of her lack of discipline."

Mace Windu raised an eyebrow. "From her point of view there were only two outcomes to that vision. Death and life. She chose her father's life. I cannot fault her for that. For I would have done the same."

Twylla sniffed. "A Jedi must have the most serious commitment. To the Order, not to individuals. However they are related."

Kyra felt herself flush, but in anger not embarrassment. Ha, you carping crow! You only say that because none of your own relatives are Jedi. It would be much harder if you had family here. Bet you wouldn't be so quick to condemn me then!

"When you attacked the Sith, what did you feel?" a gray-robed Master demanded.

"I felt frightened for my father and angry at the Sith Lord for hurting him." Kyra answered honestly.

"You were angry when you used the Force?" the Master pressed. "Such emotions lead to the Dark Side."

_"Only if you cannot control them."_ Wraith spoke, startling the Masters into silence. _"My bondmate was in command of her emotions. They did not overwhelm her. She can use the Force when angry because she is a Windwalker."_

"A Windwalker!" exclaimed another Master. "By what right do you claim that title, girl?"

Kyranon drew herself up to her full height of five feet three inches. "By the fact that I am a Chosen of a vorcel hawk, Master. And that I have dominion over the winds. I am the Balance between Light and Dark."

The Jedi Masters exchanged glances.

"This changes everything!" Twylla cried.

"How so, Master Twylla?" Yoda asked. "She is what she always was. No more, no less."

"Did you know of this, Yoda?" Mace Windu asked.

The little green Master nodded serenely. "Suspected, I did. Wraith Chose her. Vorcel hawks have been the partners of Windwalkers long before even I was born."

"And the protectors and friends of the Jedi." Qui-Gon said, speaking for the first time.

"Protectors!" a burly Master cried in outrage. "We need not a child to protect us!"

"Protect us from what?" another Master demanded.

_"From your ancient enemies, the Sith Lords." Wraith answered. "They have grown these many years, training and preparing in secret for the day they would strike back at you. And they will, never doubt it. For only by destroying the Jedi can they be sure no one will oppose their rule over the galaxy."_

"What fantasy do you speak of, bird?" Twylla laughed. "There are no more Sith, we crushed them long before. All that are left are a few rogues and malcontents. No threat to our Order."

_"You blind yourself to the truth, Jedi. The Sith are there, have always been there. You may have defeated them once, but their time is coming. The Dark shall rise again, and this time not all your efforts will be enough to stop it. You will fall, your order will be destroyed. One thing alone will prevent this. If a Windwalker fights beside you. For she alone has the power to protect you. It was what Windwalkers did a thousand years ago, they and their hawk bondmates protected the Jedi from the Sith. For they are the Balance between the two, the wielders of Light and Shadow."_

There were more shocked murmurings at Wraith's words. Half of the Council seemed in favor of making Kyra a trainee, but the other half disagreed, saying they could not permit one who could wield both sides of the Force into the Temple. They debated for a moment or so longer, then all at once they looked at each other and nodded, as if they had suddenly come to a decision.

Yoda stood up, facing the young Windwalker. "What do you believe is the most important duty a Jedi has, young one?"

"To protect those weaker than herself."

"Just so." The green Master smiled. "And do you think yourself capable of that?"

"I will try my best. I cannot know if I will always succeed, but I will do all in my power to protect those who need it. Even when they don't think so."

"Stubborn, you are. Much like your father."

"I fear so, Master. It runs in my family." Kyra admitted. "But not a bad trait in a warrior."

"True. But the Jedi are peacekeepers before warriors."

"So am I, sir. I fight only when I must. But if I must fight, I will do so with all the weapons at my disposal. I cannot do any less. To do so would be to betray all that I believe in, all that I was trained for." Kyra explained. "You all know that I was a Starhawk officer before I came here. I cannot set aside those values so easily for your own simply because you disagree with them."

"Nor should you." Yoda said, meeting her eyes. "For the Starhawks are honorable too. Our allies they are." He resumed his seat. "Kyranon Jinn, daughter of Qui-Gon, it is the judgement of this council that you be trained."

She released the breath she had been holding.

"But not as a Jedi." Yoda continued. "For such is not your path."

"What then?"

"We will train you . . .as a Windwalker. The first in a thousand years. Such is your destiny." He bowed to her. "Wraith spoke truly. We need such as you, young one. You are the Balance of Light and Dark. Our last defense against the Dark Side. Do you agree, Kyranon Jinn of House Aranell?"

For a long moment she remained speechless.

Then she nodded.

"I do, Master Yoda. By my life and my honor, I shall be your protector. Thus I swear, Kyranon Jinn, Windwalker!"

"Welcome then, Kyranon, to our Temple."

Wraith soared from her shoulder, shrieking a high wild cry of triumph.

_"And so you fulfill your destiny, Chosen! Let the Sith beware! For a Windwalker has come again to challenge them. And nothing will ever be the same!"_

Kyra smiled up at her hawk, knowing deep within her bones that Wraith had spoke prophecy. Nothing would be the same. Not for the Jedi. Or the Sith. Or herself. She sensed this was only the beginning of a long, perilous war. A war that would test her courage and determination and her promise to the utmost. But for now she would not worry about that.

She had many things to learn, from both the Jedi and her bondmate before she could begin to wage the kind of war she needed to defeat the Sith. But that was all right. She could learn patience. And she had time before she must fight the Dark Jedi again. Time enough to grow into her powers and role as Windwalker.

Qui-Gon came up to her then, and he caught her in a hug that lifted her off her feet. "Congratulations, Kyra! I know this isn't quite what you expected but . . ."

"This is right for me, Father. I know it. I was always meant to be a Windwalker." She smiled wistfully. "I wonder what Mother would think of me now?"

"I think she would be proud of her daughter. As I am." Qui-Gon said. "But why don't you ask her yourself? Write her and find out."

"But she would never receive my letters. As vrekarin I am dead to her." Kyra told him sadly.

"But you are no longer an outcast, little hawk." The Jedi Master stated. "This arrived just this morning." He held out a plastic envelope. "In it you will find documents stating that you are newly returned to your former status as First Daughter of House Aranell, with all of the responsibilities and honors it entails."

Kyra gaped. "Gods in a circle! She changed her mind." She cast a knowing gaze at her father. "How did you convince her she was wrong?"

"I didn't. She did that on her own. All I did was point out a few facts." The Jedi Master coughed, glancing away.

"Must have been a pretty interesting conversation."

"That's one way of putting it." Qui-Gon said dryly. "Someday I'll tell you about it. Maybe in the next century, when I've recovered from the shock."

"The shock of what?"

"Actually winning an argument with your mother."

Kyra grinned. "I guess you were right."

"About what?"

"That anything is possible."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "I learned that from your mother, you know."

"You did?"

"Even Starhawks are wise sometimes." Qui-Gon said with a sly grin. "Don't tell her I said that."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Kyra reassured him. "That'd ruin the romance of the decade."

"Kyranon!"

"What? It's true. You still love her, don't you?"

"Yes . . .I shouldn't even be discussing this with you."

"Why not? I could give you advice. You certainly could use it, if the last time was any example."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation." He shook his head. "What could a fifteen-year-old know about romance?"

Kyra rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Father, do you think all I did was practice with my sword at Hawk Haven? Now granted there weren't that many boys there my own age, but there were a few and Lieutenant Shelly Allandra taught me a few things . . ."

"Such as?" her father scowled.

"The usual things."

"Do I want to know?" he muttered to himself. "I'm not even going to ask. I think I'm better off not knowing. Then I won't be tempted to strangle you."

"Father!"

Qui-Gon laughed and led the way out of the room. "Write that letter, Kyra. And leave the romance to me. If I need help, I'll let you know."

Kyra snorted. Uh-huh. At the rate you're going, you'll be back together sometime in the next century. But I'll work on it. In-between my studies and battling Sith Lords. After that, a little romance won't be that hard. Right, Wraith?

_"If you say so, Chosen."_ The vorcel hawk said, a twinkle in his violet blue eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_"You'll see."_ Wraith answered cryptically. Then he soared into the air.

Frowning in puzzlement, his Windwalker followed her bondmate to her new home, wondering what the future held in store for them. One thing she knew for certain. Her adventurers as a Windwalker were only just beginning.

**I do have part of a sequel written which I will post if anyone's interested.**

**Please let me know how you liked this one and if you'd like to read the sequel. Thank you!**


	11. Chapter 11

The sequel Windwalker: Heart of A Starhawk, should be posted shortly, look for it!


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